The Pursuit
by Pocketbook
Summary: Ash was the world's most powerful Pokemon Master, but at a price. After years of annihilating his opponents, the bargain he's made for his power catches up to him and he disappears, changed. Five years go by and old friends continue to search for the boy they knew, hoping to help him and to bring him home before he's lost forever. Romance/Adventure SerenaxAsh
1. Prologue

_Hello everyone! So I apologize for beginning this story and then suddenly abandoning it for a while. Honestly, besides school and work and the usual business of life, I wasn't happy with the way I structured/began the story. So as you can see, I'm going back and revamping it a bit before we really get on our way._

 _Things that are the same:_

 _The story still takes place in the pokemon world, with the familiar characters, with certain aspects dedicated to accuracy, however there are many twists I create-obviously-but also, I'm trying to create and underlying complexity to the characters. With that being said **if you see any changes within a character's personality** , **be patient,** as you will probably understand that they are they way they are because of something that has happened, or that is currently happening, to them._

 _I'm really going to try and stay maintain the main aspects of a character's personality. After all, reading fanfics is all about seeing the characters we know and love just in different settings. **We don't want different people/characters we don't recognize, but we want to see their likeness in our imaginations, handling circumstances every reality brings** (i.e. love, hate, anxiety, family, friends, fear)._

 _People are always changing because of life experiences. We cope, we learn, we suffer, we love, we're hurt, we're redeemed. Hopefully you'll be able to catch glimpses of these things within this story. Here's the full summary._

 _Full Summary:_

 _Ash is the world's most powerful Pokemon Master, but at a price. After years of annihilating his opponents, the bargain he's made for his power is catching up to him and he disappears, changed. Five years go by and old friends continue to search for the boy they knew, but instead they find a man, twisted and dark; possessed by a strange power that has tainted his heart and his pokemon. Meanwhile, Serena has been healing the pieces of herself shattered by Ash's betrayal, but soon she realizes she's need to help find Ash and bring him home before his soul is lost forever._

* * *

 **Five years ago.**

Ash wasn't used to being afraid. He had learned to suppress that feeling—to suppress a lot of feelings—which could inhibit his potential as a trainer. Fear, in general, can prevent a person from taking chances, or can even cage a person within a comfortable routine, one that blinds before certain dreams grow acknowledged. This new, sudden fear made Ash uncomfortably ill in his gut. It left him cold with a numb paralysis. He had never felt it to this intensity before, and he has stood before Pokémon that could kill him with a breath; with the tap of a talon.

Yet, here he sat—tucked within a cheering crowd, a decorated arena before him, and the contest about to begin. Ash grew pale. He choked back a breath, which threatened to reveal the emotion caught up in his veins.

"Um, are you okay?" Bonnie asked, tapping the young trainer on the shoulder, as if she were trying to prod him out of a strange dream.

Ash replied with a faint reassurance. It seemed good enough for the young girl, who redirected her attention back to what had become the source of all the cheering, and Ash's growing unease.

Down below, Serena stood gleaming in the spotlight as a deep voice announced her entry in to the showcase. Her hair, though short, gleamed like a dark burnished-gold reflecting the awe of many men beholding her as she stood dressed in an azure gown, white gloves covering her pale skin up to the elbows, and pearls adorning her neck.

She waved. Her eyes pierced through the crowd, and Ash knew she was searching for them. His head throbbed. He suddenly hated the way other men were looking at her, and he hated seeing her so exposed within such a large arena of competitors desiring her defeat.

It wasn't that he didn't have faith in her abilities. Ash knew Serena was a good competitor. She was strong, and could handle loss. No, this unidentifiable fear came from the demolition of a barrier Ash had placed between him and the world.

His calculating distance, the one that allowed him to stay free of commitments, to roam the world without a longing for permanence—the one that had allowed him to walk away from anything—

He felt that shattering at the sight of a girl.

* * *

Ash began to fall in love 7½ months ago. He hadn't realized it back then, and he still didn't know how it happened. All he knows is that during a typical picnic—during a typical day of traveling— he woke up from a nap and saw her.

Actually saw her.

She was lying down in the meadow, while Clemont and Bonnie fed their Pokémon. With Fennekin curled up on her stomach, Serena took to reading some book about showcase technique; her thick then-long-hair spilled over the stone she had propped herself up with.

Ash stared for a long time. His eyes moved from her legs, up the lines of her profile, and back down her hair. For some reason, he felt compelled to walk over and twist his fingers up through her loose waves. He wanted to feel the softness of the gold on his skin. The thought made him flush, and he let out an irritated grunt.

Then he pushed the feelings aside and fell back asleep.

That was it.

 _xxxxx_

Ever since then, it became increasingly difficult for Ash to ignore himself. He could feel his stomach dropping whenever she brushed up against him. He could tell when his eyes were searching for her within a scene, or when she was searching for him. He even began to dream about her.

In his dreams, they would both be under a tree, his head resting on her lap while she played with the front of his hair. And they would just be talking about things he never remembered.

For a while, it was all very innocent. Ash would just dream that over and over again. It wasn't until later on that he began waking up in the middle of the night panting, covered in cold sweat, because of the nightmares; ones where he would loose her in some cave or ravine, or where she would be kidnapped, or where she would leave him to pursue other things and other people.

Ash hated it. He hated every way his body reacted to her—the way his thoughts gravitated around her—everything.

One night, after tossing and turning for hours, Ash sat up from his sleeping bag to rid himself of the remnants from the last dream. With heavy blinks, he looked around the camp.

The last of the fire hummed in a dull, red glow beneath the charred wood, and the stars could all be seen above him. Pikachu snored harder than all the rest, and Serena was smiling in her sleep.

Ash watched her, wishing to know what she was smiling about. He pushed back his hair and shook his head. In the dark, he could only see the outline of her figure tucked within the sleeping bag. Stray strands of her hair, thick silver cords in the moonlight, fell across the ivory skin beneath the pale night. She looked unearthly to Ash. She looked surreal.

Ash remembered the sudden horror he felt when Serena opened her eyes, as if she had sensed being watched. Ash froze, not knowing what else to do. He could feel the blood leaving his limbs, conjuring at his face.

"Ash?" Serena whispered, yawning while her eyes grew wider with consciousness. "Ash, are you okay? What's wrong?"

Everything was wrong. Everything.

"Nothing," Ash said, and he tried offering her a small smile but it looked more like a grimace, "you should go back to sleep."

Serena looked at him, without saying a word, for about two and a half minutes. Ash returned her stare, his heart beginning to retain its natural rhythm. Her blue eyes coolly assessed him, and they calmed him. They were so unassuming; so innocent of suspicion. It was hard for Ash to stay anxious. He loved the way she trusted him.

"You should go back to sleep," he repeated.

"You first," she said, smiling.

Ash smiled back. "Okay,"

And he fell back on to his sleeping bag, but his eyes never left hers. Even lying down, he could still see her above Bonnie's small form, which separated the two.

He couldn't remember when he stopped staring. He couldn't remember when he closed his eyes. He couldn't remember when he fell asleep.

* * *

The showcase ended. Serena walked away with second place, losing in the semi-finals. It was a huge accomplishment considering the competition. Ash knew she'd be thrilled.

He followed Clemont and Bonnie, both chatting easily as the three weaved through the halls flooded with people and Pokémon in all sorts of bright colors and ribbons. Pikachu scurried on to Ash's hat, squealing to the others when he saw Serena and Sylveon up ahead.

"I see them," Bonnie exclaimed and ran up to embrace Serena's waist. "You were so beautiful and awesome and gorgeous and—,"

"Thanks, Bonnie, you really think so?" Serena asked, unsure of herself.

She was always so unsure. At times it annoyed Ash, but mostly it amazed him. It had occurred to him sometime ago, that Serena didn't even know how talented she was. Ash wondered what had made Serena so insecure. Part of him wished she would be more confident in herself, but he knew that was a, somewhat, selfish desire.

Ash knew that Serena's complete unawareness of her strengths made her so extraordinary. She was so humble. That's what drew Ash to her. He hadn't ever met anyone so oblivious to their own beauty. He wished she would get more confident so that she could stop being so blind to the effect she had on people. Maybe then he could take back his heart while he still had a chance.

"You were great," Ash said, maintaining the supportive friend façade. He gave her a thumbs up and tried to calm his heartbeat when she blushed in response.

"Come on guys, I'm starving," Clemont broke in, "let's get something to eat."

Everyone smiled and agreed.

 _xxxxx_

On the way to Snowbelle City, it was clear that something about Ash seemed off. Serena watched him with concern while he continued to push his Pokémon to train, even as the snow picked up. For the past few days, all he could talk about was training or winning or gym battles. Everything else seemed to leave him uncomfortable and distracted.

He was avoiding something.

Serena knew him too well. She knew Ash had a tendency to use battling as a way of hiding himself within the security of his talent as a trainer. All she could do was wonder what he was hiding from this time.

Coming out of the woods with an arm full of wood, Serena gasped at the sight of Ash's Pokémon passed out in the snow. Whatever Ash was running from this time; it certainly wasn't just the fear of going to bed without dinner. No, it was worse than that.

"Come on, guys! Get up! We need to be ready if we're going to face Wulfric tomorrow!" Ash exclaimed, rubbing the temples of his skull.

"Ash, don't you think you've trained enough for today?" Clemont proposed with his usual nervous laugh.

"Yea, it's getting dark anyway," Bonnie added and helped Serena with the firewood.

After dumping all the wood in a pit they made in the snow, Serena went over to pick up an exhausted Pikachu. The small rodent curled up in her warm arms and shivered before falling in to a deep sleep.

"Ash, you should be careful. You and your Pokémon could catch another cold," Serena said, offering him a nervy smile, "of course, I wouldn't mind having to take care of you again."

Ash made no response. Without another word, he returned his Pokémon, went in to his tent, and passed out.

"Something's wrong," Bonnie remarked and looked at Serena.

"Oh, just give him some time, I'm sure he's just stressed about this match," Serena smiled, stroking the young girl's hair to reassure her, but Serena couldn't quite reassure herself.

The next day was the match. Then came the loss.

Ash was beside himself. He stormed off in to the woods, the others calling after him. He even left Pikachu behind.

"What is wrong with me?" He groaned in to the snow as it continued to fall hard on to the ground.

He collapsed on to a log, panting.

It didn't take too long for Serena to find him. She always did. Ash always wanted her to, but kept trying to deny it. He tried to deny it now. He tried to blame her for his loss—for distracting him.

"Ash, what's going on?" Serena asked. She stood a few feet away from him, a clenched hand over her heart. She seemed hesitant to approach.

"I lost,"

"That's not it,"

Ash looked up. She stared him down.

"Something's wrong. You've been acting strange."

"Strange, how?" Ash tried to shrug it off, adjusting his cap. "Look, I lost a match. I'll get over it."

"Ash…"

He stood up and turned away from her, still messing with his cap, taking it off his head and examining it. Her voice pierced him, like a thin sword slicing the veins below his heart. He wanted her to go. He wanted her to stay.

"Look, I don't need you. I'll be fine."

Serena said nothing.

For a long time, he stood there with his back turned to her. It wasn't until he heard a sob that Ash whipped back, only to watch her running away.

The tears, freezing off her face, struck Ash in tandem with the snow.

 _xxxxx_

That night, Ash grew disturbed. He had nightmares, and he kept sweating with that same, unidentifiable fear.

"Stop it," he began muttering in his sleep, shaking his head back and forth as though he were hearing some voice in his mind. "It's not true."

Pikachu, awoken by Ash's restless shifting and muttering, immediately scurried on to Serena. The small Pokémon jumped and nudged her face until she stirred out of sleep. She opened her eyes to find Pikachu's bright cheeks inches away from her nose and shot up, startled.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Serena gasped, holding the small creature in her arms. She heard Ash crying out in his sleep. Leaping out of her sleeping bag, Serena ran over to him. She put her hand on his head and felt the heat perspiring from his skin.

"He's burning up," Serena breathed, and Pikachu worried at her side. She began to shake Ash awake, gently calling out his name. She didn't want to shock him.

"Please, come back," Ash kept saying, "come back, come back, come back."

Serena kept calling out to him, and the nightmare passed. Ash woke up.

She watched him regain consciousness. Her face flushed with a strange mix of hurt and relief. She reached for his hands, and pushed back a thick clump of damp, black hair away from his face. He seemed dazed.

"Oh, Ash, what's wrong?" Serena bit the inside of her lip. Her face grew even more red at the boldness she displayed to comfort him. She kept his hands in hers, and continued stroking his hair whenever it fell back on to his face.

"It was just a nightmare," he muttered, still unsure of his reality. Had he fallen in to a dream? Was Serena there with him now? Even after all of his apathy, and the arrogant density, which led him to believe he could learn to not feel—would she always be there? Would he?

"No, Ash. No," Serena shook her head fiercely, her eyes beginning to brim with tears, "talk to me. You're not okay. Something's wrong!"

The night filled in around her. The trees looked like black, toxic barbs against the dark winter, but the water in Serena's eyes reflected the moon with bright, detailed clarity. Ash lost his resistance in their water.

With a trembling hand, he brought his fingers to Serena's cheek, catching some of the tears before they fell from their vessel.

And Ash let go, but not of Serena.

"I'm sorry,"

"It's okay, just tell me what's wrong?" Serena pleaded.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean what I said. I wanted you to stay."

"Wake up, Ash!"

"I'm awake!" He shouted and he kissed her.

He didn't know if he did it right, he just went for it. He kissed her in the dark, and he could feel her shock on his lips. He felt her tremble beneath his hands, and felt her tears on his cheeks, and he moved his arms around her waist, as hers snaked behind his neck, and he drew her in close.

And Serena smiled.


	2. Chapter 1

**Important Note:** There has been a change to an original story detail. **Instead of being missing for 10 years, Ash has been missing for 5**. Reasons for this change is that, ten years would be an unrealistically long time to be hung up over someone. No matter how powerful love was, time is a healer of all things and humans are resilient. Also, the voice I give Ash in the beginning is too self-aware for a 15 year old, which is what I originally imagined he and Serena to be. Instead, their relationship began when Ash was 18, and Serena 17. Thus, five years, also keeps them within the span of their youth-a very moldable and transitory phase of life, which is the one I want to explore :)

Full Summary:

 _Ash is the world's most powerful Pokemon Master, but at a price. After years of annihilating his opponents, the bargain he's made for his power is catching up to him and he disappears, changed. Ten years goes by and old friends continue to search for the boy they knew, but they find a man twisted and dark and possessed with a strange power that has tainted his heart as well as his pokemon. Meanwhile, Serena has been healing the pieces of her heart that were shattered by Ash's betrayal, but soon she realizes she's needed to help find Ash and bring him home before his soul is lost forever._

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

Taylor didn't want any trouble. He kept his head down and wiped down the counter as two strangers dressed in foreign clothes drifted in to bar, slamming the door on the snow storm that howled outside and shook the small wooden building. This was a rough part of Kalos. Picks was a mining town tucked in to the mountains northwest, way past any trainer map, and the two men that just walked in weren't from around here. When they sat down at the far corner of the bar, Taylor noticed their more affluent equipment. He wondered what the hell they were doing around here and felt sorry they had stumbled in to a tough joint. The locals around here were either as broke as sin or crooks, and they were already eyeing the foreigners like pieces of meat waiting to be cut, dried, and sold.

"They better have some strong pokemon, cause I sure ain't helping their sorry asses," Taylor muttered to himself and poured an ale from the tap for Mike, an old local miner sitting at the other end of the counter.

"I'm sure they do," coughed Mike, who'd overheard his friend. Some foam stuck to his grey beard as he peeled his lips from the glass rim. "I don't think one travels so far up the mountains without strong pokemon."

True. Taylor mulled the thought over.

"You know what they're doing here, though?"

The old miner shrugged. "Either running away from something or looking for something. It's all the same."

Just then, the two southerners stood up and walked over to the counter. One, Taylor noticed, was enormous. He had to be over six feet with broad shoulder, muscles that could smash a pokeball in to pieces in one hand. He looked like he was from the mountains of Kanto, with thin slits for eyes, dark skin, and dark hair. The companion was not as tall, but not much shorter either. However, he was skinny, with blonde hair and blue eyes and thin glasses Taylor hadn't noticed before. He was definitely from Kalos; from the central region were all the aristocrats live. This kid looked like he had money and next to his broad shouldered friend, the blonde stranger looked fragile and much younger up close.

"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" Taylor asked, avoiding the eyes of the darker stranger.

"A couple of lagers, if you please," spoke the blonde stranger, giving Taylor a friendly smile.

Taylor slid two bottles their way, trying to hide the suspicion hanging from his brow. "Anything else?"

The blonde boy was about to speak when his companion interrupted him.

"Actually yes,"

"Brock-,"

"We're looking for the anyone around here that can read this," the dark man, named Brock, announced, cutting off his friend and unfolding a piece of paper tucked inside the pocket of his jacket.

Taylor studied the markings and symbols on the paper. They were completely foreign to him—unreadable. The ink stained paper had been burned away in one of the corners, and there was blood at the bottom, troubling the old barkeeper.

"What is the meaning of this?" he sneered.

"It's Kalon-the language, that is-," said the blonde boy, growing red with the tension and suspicion being aroused, "we were just looking for someone who could translate it for us. You see, it's a very ancient language, but we heard there was someone around here who could read it."

Taylor looked from him to Brock, who stood looking indifferently down at him. "Get out of my bar. I don't want any-,"

"Now wait just a second, Taylor," Mike coughed a few seats away and waved the two strangers towards him. "I don't think these men mean any harm. They're just looking for some help."

"Exactly! That is precisely what we are doing," the blonde boy exclaimed nervously, "we don't mean to cause any problems, um-,"

"The name's Mike," the old miner gave the two a toothless grin and led them over to a table away from the small crowd, hobbling on weak bony legs.

Taylor just rolled his eyes and went back to his business. So did the rest. Brock made sure no one was close enough to listen as the three got comfortable around an rotting wooden table.

"You can read Kalon," Brock presumed, eyeing the old man suspiciously.

"Yes," Mike said, nodding, "it's been in my family for generations. These parts are losing it more and more now, but it used to be the only language spoken among Kalosians for many years. When foreigners came in, the language moved north in to the mountains and eventually died off mostly, but the miners used it underground, writing symbols on the rocks in order to relay messages as they dug deeper. But this, my friends…"

Mike paused to look around the bar before leaning in close, "This was a powerful language, said to be full of meaning and discipline. Many believe it was spoken by the legendaries of the mortality duo and ancient Kalosian trainers used it to train Pokémon to levels beyond our imaginations. Pokémon Masters were expected to learn it, speak it, and write it, regarding the practice as the highest form of training."

"How does a miner know all of this?" Brock grunted, regarding the old man uneasily.

"Most miners know very little of the language, and they do not know its significance. However, my father was a very learned man and taught me many things you would not expect, such as the language and its purpose."

"Can you tell us what this says?" Brock grunted, sliding the paper towards Mike.

"Only after you tell me your names and why you need it translated."

"Well I'm Clemont and this is-,"

"Why does any of that matter. Can you please just read the paper?" Brock interrupted, leaning forward with a forced whisper.

"I need to know because the symbols hold many meanings and names," Mike explained with a grin, amused by Brock's impatience. "For example, the symbol for sky also could mean grain, vessel, bird, etc. depending on the context."

Brock leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. He seemed to be contemplating, his eyes were dark and still on Mike.

Clemont shifted in his chair. He waited a few moments, looking at Brock, and said, "We are looking for something. A place, if you will. We're thinking it may be a cave or an island."

"Hm." Mike said, tapping his bear, "I see. Anything else?"

The two stayed quiet.

After another long moment, the old man bent his brittle back over the table to study the paper. Then he looked up.

Brock leaned in again, seeing that the old miner was unsettled. "What is it? What did it say?"

Mike scratched his beard. "Are you certain you are looking for something and not some _one_?"

Brock and Clemont both stiffened. Brock looked as though he would break the table at any moment and Clemont looked more confused than anything.

"What are you talking about," Brock seethed, "we told you all you need to know."

"You think you're being secretive? You come in dressed in clothes the southerners wear, holding up a piece of paper written in a language thousands of years old, known only to Pokémon Masters of old and maybe some obscure miners. I know whom you seek,"

"Stop!" Brock shouted, slamming his fist on the table. The whole bar went quiet and turned to watch the scene. "I-I'm sorry," Brock relented, shocked by the old man and tired of secrets, "I'm sorry."

"You alright, Mike?" asked a gruff man from the bar.

"Don't worry, Pete. My fault, I was messing with them," Mike waved and smiled, and the others turned around, but with their hands not far from the Pokémon at their belts, just in case. Mike was testing them. He did not know if he could trust them, or if the symbols on the paper, if translated, should bring harm.

"Who are you?" Brock demanded.

"Well, my name is not what is appears to be, but it will do for now," Mike took another gulp of his drink, "the more pressing question is who are you? And why do you seek someone who is lost?"

"Please just tell us what the paper says," Clemont pleaded, running his thin fingers through his hair, trying to keep his expression calm. "We're his friends. He's in trouble."

Mike watched Brock glare at Clemont as information—personal detail—leaked from his throat riding close to a sob. Mike's heart suddenly broke for the two at that moment. The boy looked helpless, the faint hope in his blue eyes was dimming, but he did not want to let go. He couldn't. Loyalty would not let him.

The old miner saw the same in Brock; a man weathered by the pain of loss, burdened and hardened by the years of searching and never finding.

These were the two Mike was foretold about. He knew it now. He hadn't expected to wait so long for their coming.

Mike's voice then changed. It grew deeper and more authoritative, and his face, only to the two before him, morphed in to that of a young man, whose face glowed through light so dim, Brock and Clemont did not seem to believe it was there.

"Young Ash has been missing five years," Mike whispered and the two faces, in shock, before him winced, as though a returning dagger had been stabbed and twisted in to their innards. "His disappearance is perhaps the greatest mystery in recent times, and it has bred many myths. He has become a captive to the whisper we all hear but ignore, afraid of its presence in the wind. But you two are listening for it. I know why, and I have been placed here to help, but I cannot tell you anything more quite yet. Give me the paper."

Mike looked at the paper again. "Now, these symbols together mean many things. It means peace, or desire for peace and stillness. Desire for rest. Or a desire for home."

"That doesn't really help much," Brock murmured, rubbing his temples.

"Yes, but the symbols also could stand for a name."

"A name? Like the name of a person?"

Mike nodded.

"Well?" Brock leaned forward.

"The first symbol is the adjective 'serene'. The next symbol, is the vowel 'a'. Put them together—,"

Clemont's eyes grew wide and Brock could only let out a long breath.

"Does the name, Serena, mean anything to you?"

* * *

 _Please R &R_


	3. Chapter 2

_Hi! Thank you for all of your lovely follows and favorites and review :)_

 ** _So if you were familiar with the old story, here is were I completely changed course, but I promise it was all for the better._**

 _Anyway, in this next chapter we learn more about Serena. Be patient for explanations though. I'm really trying to follow the characters, meaning as things are revealed to them, things will be revealed to you, lovely readers. People have complicated emotional complexes, and it's hard to always understand what it is we feel. Most of these characters are going through that, especially in light of the traumatic event that is losing a brother, best friend, or lover. So be patient and see if you can figure out somethings for yourself. It more fun for me and for you to discover than to simply be told ;) Anyway, enjoy and please review or follow!_

Full Story Summary:

 _Ash is the world's most powerful Pokemon Master, but at a price. After years of annihilating his opponents, the bargain he's made for his power is catching up to him and he disappears, changed. **Five** years goes by and old friends continue to search for the boy they knew, but they find a man twisted and dark and possessed with a strange power that has tainted his heart as well as his pokemon. Meanwhile, Serena has been healing the pieces of her heart that were shattered by Ash's betrayal, but soon she realizes she's needed to help find Ash and bring him home before his soul is lost forever. _

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Serena woke up that morning with a nervous stomach. There something unsettling about today, something she hadn't felt in a long time and wondered if the feeling was caused by the occasion.

Today was the Glorio Master Showcase, but Serena wasn't worried about whether or not she'd keep the title of Kalos Queen for the 3rd year in a row. Instead, it was the passing of another year that distressed her. Another long year had come and gone.

Serena looked around her master bedroom. It was a chamber within the Glorio city castle; adorned in red velvets, gold tapestries, crystal accents, and a view overlooking the sea. On a luxurious little mattress near one corner of the room, Sylveon and Pikachu slept, and the rodent snored like the boy she once knew. It hurt, but Serena managed a smiled towards the two, and she fell back on to her pillow, reluctant to push through the nausea that had begun to well up within her.

Perhaps three years of this luxury was enough, Serena contemplated, her eyes tracing the gold vines weaving themselves throughout the white ceiling. She possessed what many girls dreamed of; the title, the fame, the wealth.

None of it healed.

She was not the girl she used to be. It took her a while to realize that nothing could get that girl back.

"Oohh, Serena!" exclaimed Bonnie as she burst forth in to the bedroom, followed by Bella, the queen's personal attendant, who ran in with a panic.

"I'm sorry, my lady," Bella exclaimed, her plump form bent over to pant, "but it appears as though you have a rather insolent visitor. I can remove her at once if you need to get changed,"

"Bonnie! Oh my goodness," Serena cried and laughed as a twelve-year old Bonnie rushed up to jump on the bed, embracing her long-time friend. "I'm so happy you could come! You didn't tell me you were coming this year!"

"Well I thought I wasn't going to make it, but we were forced to take a detour! And I missed you!" Bonnie hugged Serena even tighter, and began spewing out all sorts of stories from her new travels in becoming a Pokemon trainer. She told her about all the Pokemon she caught, updated her about Dedenne, and chattered about some of the latest fashion shows going on around the region.

"Oh, but it is so good to see you," Bonnie sighed and threw her head on to Serena's pillow, "traveling is so hard sometimes. Even though I have Kaleb and my Pokemon keeping me company, it's still hard not to feel lonely at times, you know?"

Serena gave a small smile and took Bonnie's hand to give her comforting squeeze.

"My lady?"

"Oh!" Serena jumped, having forgotten that Bella was there, "It's alright, she can stay with me while I get ready."

Bella straightened out her uniform, and gave a solemn nod. "Very well. I'll have breakfast sent up right away."

"I forget about the hard a life you lead," Bonnie teased after the head mistress had left.

Serena threw a large pillow towards the young trainer, hitting her right in the face, and she jumped off the bed before Bonnie could retaliate. The two began to throw cushions at each other, and one managed to smack Pikachu and Sylveon sleeping in the corner.

Pikachu jumped up in shock. His red cheeks buzzed with static until he saw Bonnie and ran to her with a squeal.

"Oh, of course I've missed you too, Pikachu," Bonnie cooed, showering the tiny Pokemon with little kisses.

Serena watched Pikachu cheer, beginning to chase Bonnie around the room as a loose game of tag ensued between the two. Serena felt Sylveon come up and wrap one of its ribbons around her. She smiled down at her companion, both sharing in the comfort they received at the sight of Pikachu's good mood. These moments were rare. Most days, Pikachu wore his loss like a heavy grey cape, dragging it behind him wherever he went, and Serena could feel the sadness in her arms whenever she held him. And Pikachu would always crawl up to her, because she was the only one who understood.

As Serena moved towards the polished vanity across the room, Bonnie went over to the thick curtains and dramatically threw them aside.

"Oh!" she exclaimed as the light burst forth in glorious day, illuminating the gold and crystals all about the room. "I _live_ for this view! I should just come and stay with you, Serena. I could stare at this ocean forever."

Serena looked over her shoulder as she brushed her hair and watched Bonnie open the glass doors to move onto the balcony. The salt-ridden breeze entered the room with a refreshing haste to rid the stiff air from the corners. Serena closed her eyes, and for a moment, let the wind consume her. She didn't have to peek out the balcony to know what the day looked like, as she had lived and stared through many of them before.

The sun was at its brightest. No cloud stood to hinder the rays bouncing off the old city's stone streets and buildings. The rock gleamed white against the shores, which crashed with water more clear than the windows of this castle. During this season, Wailords and Lapras could be seen in the horizon, returning from the south along the spring currents, feeding on the seaweed regrown upon their absence.

The people down below on the streets, dressed in purple, pinks, oranges, and yellows. They reflected the attitude of the showcases, upon which the city established its renown. The season brought vendors hulling all sorts of ripe and vibrant berries stacked upon a wooden cart or wheelbarrow. The children and Pokemon begged with their eyes to taste one, and feel the sweet juices on their tongues. And if Hal, one of the more popular vendors, was in a good mood, he'd give out a dozen free samples to anyone who asked through just a glance.

Serena opened her eyes and watched Bonnie through the reflection of her vanity.

"Haha! I see Kaleb down by the gate!" Bonnie giggled and shouted down to her traveling companion, but they were probably too high up for him to hear.

Just then, Bella wheeled in breakfast for the two. She placed both covered dishes upon a small dining table that sat before a large fireplace built in to the right side of the room.

"Alright, breakfast is served," Bella announced, then checking her pocket-watch with concern, "Serena, you are already behind schedule. Palermo expects you to downstairs in the ballroom in an hour for the meet-and-greet! Oh, and your Pokemon still need to be groomed-and have you tried on the dress for the ball tonight?! How are we supposed to know if it's to be hemmed!?"

Serena bit her lip to suppress her amusement. Bella always seemed to bear the weight of everyone's troubles, though it was her nature to be a mother to everyone.

"Yes, yes, of course," Serena rolled her eyes and floated over to her attendant, giving the old woman an affectionate kiss on the cheek, "don't worry about a thing."

"Every year you say that, and every year I'm practically _driven_ to tears by your shenanigans," Bella huffed and wiped her forehead with a handkerchief. The head mistress spotted Bonnie on the balcony, and she called the young girl over. "You there! Make yourself useful, and help Serena with this hair! Heavens know she she too much of it. Perhaps we should chop it off again-,"

Serena shrugged. "Cut it off, I don't care,"

"No!" Bonnie exclaimed, and jumped at the chance to brush it, "it's too beautiful to cut. She doesn't mean it."

"Of course she does, but Palmero would never let her do such a thing," Bella snorted and stared at Serena, "I've never met a girl more apathetic towards herself. Sometimes it seems as though she doesn't care about any of this at all."

Serena winced. She looked down at her nails, pretending to pick at the cuticles, trying to block out the sudden flood of memories printed with visceral images of a kiss-a caress-lips on her neck.

She felt a finger draw her face back up, and saw Bella smile through the sadness within her wrinkled eyes.

"But I know you do care, sweet girl," the old maid said, kissing Serena's forehead, "be strong. Light cannot exist without the dark. From its depths the sun appeared. One day, you will see it."

Serena took Bella's hand and looked up. Serena felt nothing. Not even a stir.

She kissed the old woman's palm, and offered an empty smile.

"Yes, of course." Serena replied, and began to prepare to the day.

* * *

Brock and Clemont arrived in Glorio city that morning. They got off their ship and Brock immediately began heading for the castle. Clemont groaned, and pleaded for them to at least stop and grab a snack.

The streets were full of vendors and merchants coming from all over the region for the city's grand showcase. Small children ran by, twirling ribbons with their Pokémon, or flying kites in the sea breeze. Street performers captivated tourists with their pyrotechnics, balancing acts, and magic tricks. Clemont absorbed the scene, dazzled by the vibrancy of it all. He managed to grab a bowl of ramen at a food cart on the way, and slurped it up while Brock brooded through the crowd.

"Bonnie messaged me," Clemont said between bites, "she's already there."

Brock paused. "Is she with her?"

"With Serena?" Clemont nodded. "Yea,"

A silent apprehension settled between them. Brock wasn't in a particularly good mood. He didn't like the heat, or the sea, or large hills leading to pretentious castles…

"Brock," Clemont stammered, immediately regretting his decision to speak.

The broad gym leader turned around and waited.

"Yes?"

Clemont swirled the noodles within their bowl with his chopsticks. He dropped his shoulders and rubbed his eyes. He was tired, and afraid.

"Should we do this? I mean—," the blonde clenched his jaw, "I don't want to hurt her. Not again. Not anymore."

Brock watched Clemont run his hands through his hair, close to shaking from the conflict brewing within him.

"What if she doesn't want to help?" Clemont asked.

"She'll want to."

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

"Will she though?"

"I don't know."

They fell back in to silence. Clemont was too exhausted to keep fighting the task at hand, and Brock was too busy traversing deep though. The old gym leader was trying to remember Serena. He'd met her only a few times when Ash brought her in to Pallet Town so that she could meet his mom and everyone.

Brock remembered how shocking it was for everyone to see Ash so in love. He hadn't known the guy to be capable of such affection towards anything but his Pokémon, but Brock could tell that the two were serious. Even at seventeen. The relationship had sent the whole town swooning with curiosity.

Serena had been pretty cute, if Brock recalled correctly. She had watched Ash the way one watches the moon, with this bright wonder that reflected the light of the sun. Ash had watched her too, with a tenderness Brock didn't know the kid possessed.

 _"Brock you have to meet her,_ "

 _"Ash, can this wait? I mean, I have –,"_

 _"No, it can't wait! She's here right now," Ash grinned, running out the door and dragging Serena behind him, "Serena, this is one of my oldest friends, Brock. Brock, this is Serena."_

 _He greeted her and they made small talk. She was very warm, as though followed by a sense of comfort. The feeling clung to her eyes and to her hair and Brock noticed how people just gathered around her as one would around a fire. She told Brock that Ash talked about him all the time, that she practically knew him already, and they chatted a bit about Kanto. Brock smiled, and watched Ash take her hand, drawing her close._

 _The memory jumped to him and Ash having a conversation on someone's porch. He heard Ash say he loved her, and that he'd never met anyone like her; that he felt like she knew him, the real him, or something._

 _"I don't know, it's different with her. This feeling. It actually scares me a little."_

 _"What scared you about it?" Brock asked._

 _Ash looked at him, as though searching for a way to translate what he felt. "It scares me. I don't want to lose her."_

The memory ended. Brock had originally written the whole romance off as some teenage infatuation, but it must have been more. At the time it had been hard to believe that the Ash he knew could love like that. The relationship changed Ash. It made him grow up...but maybe too quickly. His words grew heavier, as though he was always trying to understand things no one put much thought in to. He began to overanalyze, causing him to doubt the relationship he had not just with Serena, but with all his friends.

Closer to the time of his disappearance, Ash would call Brock just to ask if they were still friends. Once Brock had answered yes, Ash would sign off. It was strange. Serena once reached out to Brock too, asking for help. She said Ash was changing and that she was worried. Again, Brock didn't give it much thought. He was getting over a rough relationship with a girl he'd been seeing in Sinnoh. Bitter, he told her people change, and to just let Ash go through whatever it was he was dealing with. It would be fine.

Brock looked back now and knew he had been an idiot. He had missed all the signs, had been checked out. He had let Ash down.

He took out the folded piece of paper written in Kalon. Ash must have written Serena's name on here less than a year ago. The ink had still been fresh when Brock tore it out of a journal, empty save for this one page. The journal, black and plain and half destroyed, had appeared on Delia Ketchum's front door. She had called Brock and Misty right away.

 _"I don't know what this means,_ " _she said, her eyes red and watered, "he didn't even leave a note, but I know it's his. I think he's in trouble."_

 _Misty comforted the grieving mother, but her eyes were dead of all hope and Brock couldn't stand it so he looked away. He studied the journal and flipped through every page. Just one had the strange symbols, and Ash's name was written in the inside cover._

 _"He's not gone yet. He's fighting."_

Ash was fighting. What he was fighting, Brock had no idea. He intended to find out. He needed to find Serena. He needed her side of the story.

Nearing the castle, the two began to tire. Clemont remarked about how excited Bonnie had been to see Serena again. It'd been a year, apparently, since the last showcase. Clemont and Bonnie tried to come to at least one of her shows every season, in order to support her. Brock appreciated and sometimes envied Clemont's enduring optimism.

For years, the kid searched for Ash in his own way. He went off to train, sometimes with Serena and Bonnie, in whatever region that led to any clue of Ash's whereabouts, but all leads fell through. Clemont said Serena got frustrated. She and Bonnie decided to go to Johto while he went back to Lumoise City as the head gym leader. He had been there for about two years finishing up his education when Brock found him and showed him the journal. Clemont had been the first to identify the symbols, saying he'd heard about them in one of his classes, but even the university didn't know much about the language except for where it originated.

Clemont was about to chatter on again when Brock's Xtransceiver rang.

"Oh no,"

"I hear you're in town," said a smooth, near arrogant voice out of the screen. Gary Oak had grown tall and slender. He'd always been considered charismatic and handsome, with thick auburn hair and dark eyes full of this ambitious drive that allowed him to wage success in most of what he set his mind to. Last year he was named as one of Kanto's top coordinators, and he always made it on to Trainer's Magazine as a part of the "50 Hottest Trainers under 25!". Brock loved and hated the man.

Brock smiled at the sight of his old friend, "You're in Glorio?"

"I'm here for the show," Gary smirked, "when all the hottest girls flock to one place, you know I'm just around the corner. Hey, let's meet up later,"

Brock sighed and leaned back in his chair. He and Gary had gotten close through Ash and by running in to each other all over Kanto. After their rivalry, Gary and Ash became like brothers. Always teasing each other, but encouraging one another to always be better. Besides Misty and Bonnie, Gary was the only other old friend of Ash's, who knew that Brock was still looking for him. Brock didn't want to bother any one else with questions or the chance to help because he knew the whole situation brought more pain and disappointment than anything. It was better for most of them to forget, maybe. Maybe it was better for them all to just forget and let go.

But Brock couldn't do that. Something inside him wouldn't let him give up or forget.

"Maybe," Brock said, "Clemont's here with me, and we're actually here for…there's something we have to do."

"I know," Gary nodded, "Delia and the professor have been talking about it…and I've been getting this weird feeling..."

Gary ran his fingers through his hair, his cool demeanor faltering for half a second.

"We should catch up is all," the smirk returned, "I'm sure whatever you have to do can wait until after the festivities. And maybe you'll need some more company. You look like you need a good time, you've grown too goddam serious,"

Brock chuckled in spite of himself. "Whatever, I'll think about it."

He signed off and Clemont looked unsettled.

"What?" Brock asked, watching the blond gym leader grow more uncertain about something.

"Brock, don't you think that this is all just…I don't know, kind of strange?" Clemont ask, "I mean, what are the odds that we find an old man at a random tavern, who _happens_ to speak Kalon; that Bonnie and Kaleb have to take a detour, because of a huge snow storm in the north—where we just were, might I add—that Gary Oak shows up out of nowhere, talking about how he felt compelled to reach out because of some weird juju—,"

"Clemont, what are you getting at?" Brock grunted. He hated this sort of lunatic talk. "Coincidence? Are you talking about coincidence?"

"I think we're being set up," Clemont concluded, pushing his glasses farther on to the bridge of his nose, "that journal was a catalyst for something about to react. We're part of a chain reaction."

Suddenly the wind picked up, a hard gust blasting from the horizon. Turning their gaze to the ocean, both trainers noticed a huge, dark cloud forming over the distance. Though the sun still shone over the city, thunderous veins of a thick storm was reaching towards them, promising an imminent arrival.

Brock reached in to his pocket and pulled out the ink-stained note. The words glowed a dark blue, with smoke blowing out of the letters as if they about to ignite.

"Not good! _Not_ good!" Clemont cried, running past Brock towards the castle, "Come on! We have to get to the others!"

Brock stared at the Kalon, dazed. He shook his head, muttering to himself as he sprinted after Clemont.

* * *

 _R &R_


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 _Sorry for the late update friends! I'm trying to be more consistent with my updates, but things were very busy for me this week. This chapter is a little shorter than I would have liked, but hopefully it will appease you all for now. Next updates should be longer. Thanks again for reading. It's very much appreciated. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **before**

It had been one of those cold spring nights in the mountains, and Serena had been lying awake in her sleeping bag, nervous for her upcoming showcase. She had lost the last three. It had been getting more difficult to deal with the blows of defeat, feeling as though she had maybe picked the wrong career; feeling as though she didn't measure up to any standard.

Serena tossed and shivered, trying to get warm as a breeze picked up, blowing the last dead leaves off the ground and off of the fresh flowers growing in the darkness. Unable to sleep, Serena stirred out of her sleeping bag, and crept over to her pack to find an extra coat.

"Serena?"

She heard Ash whisper to her from across the charred fire pit. Turning around, she could make out the silhouette of his head poking up from his sleeping bag. His thick, unruly hair stuck out in every direction. Serena blushed.

It had been six weeks since the kiss, and they had decided to keep it a secret between themselves for now. Their relationship so far, had been an awkward stumbling of the blind leading the blind. Neither had been in such a relationship before, and the lack of experience between the two was evident. There was a lot of blushing, a lot of stuttering and stammering when trying to act normal in front of the others—mostly on Ash's part. Serena could sense a new insecurity developing within him. She found his flustering adorable. He seemed to doubt his ability as a boyfriend. It was a new role for him, and Serena tried to be encouraging whenever she could.

"I can't find my coat,"

That was a lie. Serena knew where she'd left the coat, but she didn't want to look for it anymore.

An awkward silence ensued. Serena knew Ash didn't know what to say to that, but he sat up, nervous. He reached out towards her with both arms, offering up himself with a shy grin that could barely be seen in the dark.

Serena felt a huge bubble form in her stomach, rising up her throat, and pushing a huge grin on to her face. She blushed with delight and bit her lip not to squeal. She ran over to Ash, falling in to him, and pushing him back to the floor with a deep kiss.

Ash yelped with surprise, and received her lips, smiling. He parted from her just to make sure everyone else was still asleep, but he saw Pikachu blinking at him from the fire pit. Serena giggled as Ash put a finger to his lips, signaling to his yellow companion, and Pikachu just rolled his eyes and fell back asleep.

Ash muffled a laugh and turned back to Serena, tucking her in to his sleeping bag. Serena watched him get settled beside her, and then the two were still, sharing the pillow, staring at each other, blushing.

"Are you nervous about tomorrow?"

Serena nodded.

"You're going to be amazing,"

"We'll see," Serena sighed, her heart swelling with deep affection for the beautiful, encouraging boy before her. She reached up to trace her finger down the bridge of his nose, moving to the outline of his jaw, trying to remember the shape of his face.

Ash sat very still. He closed his eyes while she continued to study him with her fingertips.

"Serena?"

"Yes,"

"I don't know how to be a good boyfriend,"

Serena took one of his hands and brought it up to her cheek, kissing his palm. "I don't know how to be a good girlfriend,"

"Am I your first boyfriend?"

"Technically."

"Technically?" Ash narrowed his eyes at her, wanting an explanation.

"There was a boy in my neighborhood who took me out on dates when I was fourteen," Serena said, amused by Ash's irritated stare, "but he ended up moving to Kanto."

"Did you like him?"

"Yes," She said, but before Ash could begin to fume, she brought her lips to his cheek, "but even then I liked you more,"

"Yea?" Ash's face changed back in to a surprised smile.

Serena continued to shower his face with light kisses while he relished in the knowledge of having been her first and longest crush.

They stayed up, whispering to each other, longer than they had meant to. They talked about Serena's upcoming showcase, her conversation with Palmero, and what routes they should take after leaving the city. Ash talked about how he planned to train for the Kalos Championship, telling her about what he learned from competing in other regions.

Looking back, they were just kids. They didn't know what they were doing, but they were falling in love. Such a thing is not bound by age. The beginning seemed so innocent, and so new. It always does. What they didn't know, was that by giving their hearts to each other, they would both become prisoners and liberators. They would become lost and found. Broken and restored.

That was the night Serena asked:

"Why do you want to be a Pokémon master?"

And Ash didn't respond. He didn't want to lie.

* * *

 **today**

Serena remembered when she used to adore dances. She remembered when she used to enjoy large parties, along with the excitement and glamor they inferred through the splendor of their invitation. The décor—lights gleaming onto precious metals and crystals, illuminating ribbons of all spectrums as they billowed across the ceilings and cascaded down before the walls—all of it had once imbued Serena with wonder.

Downstairs in dining hall, the meet-and-greet for the showcase coordinators had already begun. Serena winced when she peaked through the door from the outside, and saw Palmero spot her with a stern look. Serena turned around to Bonnie, who followed behind her, and bit her lip.

"I'll see you tonight at the dance," Serena said, and kissed the young girl on the forehead, "come and spend the night after,"

Bonnie beamed, and skipped off before Palmero appeared at the door.

"You're late," Palmero glowered, her head held up by the elegant pride adorning her face. A diamond headband embellished her silver hair, her navy dress fluttered its light fabric as she walked, and the older woman subverted attention by feigning refined humility. "Our sponsors _pay_ us to spend time with you, and each minute you're absent, you rob this institution of integrity!"

Serena bowed her head in respect. "I'm sorry, madam, it won't happen again,"

"I'll see to it that it shall not," Palmero sighed, her expression softening in order to return to the social scene at hand. "Remember, you must greet Mr. Wallace, the CEO of National Contest Fabrics, and Tobias Fulton, and our chairman for the committee this year…"

The names went on, and Serena did as she was told. She floated through the dining hall, pleasant to all those she greeted, and a million miles away from each moment. She made her way around the tables of guests drinking and eating food from the two buffet counters running along the sides of the room, and Palmero would force Serena to become well acquainted with the many rich men, who had come from all over the world to enjoy the sights. These men always looked hungry.

In many ways, it was nice to meet the many people who supported the shows. They loved the entertainment, the performances, and the beauty of it all. But Serena felt dehumanized under the wealth, the vanity, and the power.

Three years ago, Serena came to Palmero out of desperation. She had believed that if she devoted herself to becoming Kalos Queen, and nothing else, she could be restored to that girl she used to be. The girl, who used to see wonder, who believed in never giving up; the girl who could feel did not come back. Serena was not freed. She was not her own. Too many pieces of herself had been sold to other people, and she began to wonder if she could ever buy them back.

 _You will do as you're told, you will go where you're told, you will be who you are told to be. You will not cut your hair._

xxxxx

All sorts of sunset-colored tents rose up from the cobblestone plaza just outside the castle gates. Performers, merchants, cooks, and children ran from stall to stall, exchanging gossip or goods or showcase tickets, and scene looked like a crowded festival.

Brock and Clemont made it to the top, out of breath, and spotted Kaleb leaning against the gold gates of the castle. His hat fell over his eyes, and he appeared to be snoring as his Cyndaquil and Bonnie's Dedenne chased each other around his feet and through the plaza.

"Where's Bonnie?" Clemont asked, shaking the young trainer awake.

Kaleb jumped, his hat falling off his dark hair. "Ah! Cyndaquil, ember!"

Cyndaquil stopped running around and, upon instinct, obeyed his trainer, directing his attack towards Clemont.

The blonde gym-leader leaped back before the fire clipped his feet. "What the hell, Kaleb! Wake up!"

Kaleb blinked, his dark eyes still dazed with sleep. After a second or two, he groaned and rubbed his face. "Whoops,"

"Whoops?" Clemont repeated and looked around, "Where's Bonnie?"

Kaleb shrugged and linked his fingers above his head to stretch out his arms. "She got inside the castle somehow, I don't know."

He yawned.

Brock watched the young boy with slight amusement as Clemont's frustration began to rise. Kaleb had been traveling around with Bonnie for about a year now. Clemont never liked him. The boy seemed indifferent; apathetic towards most things except for pokemon—and Bonnie—Brock supposed, since the kid had the decency to stick around. Brock had met the boy a couple times before, during the times Bonnie would join him and Clemont on the search for Ash. Each time, Kaleb came off as bored or sulking, but Brock figured the kid was just more reserved. He didn't have Gary's arrogant disposition, nor an ignorant temperament, which most young trainers begin with.

No, Brock had concluded a while ago, Kaleb was just quiet. He usually fell in to deep thought and observed his surroundings with careful detail. This lent him to appear more distant and apathetic, when perhaps, it was very much the opposite.

"How did she get in?" Clemont wondered.

A firework went off.

The three trainers jumped and looked up to the sky as bright purples and yellows and pinks, cascading down in spirals of sparkles and flashes, illuminated the growing dusk. Then trumpets began to sound and a huge Kalosian banner was hung off the center balcony of the castle. Confetti began falling from the towers and the crowd cheered.

J.R. Stark, who's been the host of the Master Class Showcases for the past three years, appeared behind the banner dressed in a fitted tux, his crisp hair combed back, and a huge grin played his face. He raised a microphone to his smile, and with his other hand gestured to the grandeur about the palace. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the event of the year!"

The crowd roared and girls swooned.

Brock watched one girl cry and faint at the sight of Stark. He cringed and looked back towards the most famous man in the region. Not only was he a showcase host, a decent trainer, and performer, but J.R. Stark was known for being "god-like" in appearance.

His faced was well defined with a brilliant smile, straight nose, prominent jawline. A glow illuminated his skin through a light tan, his hair was a thick mess of auburn waves, which he often combed and gelled back, and his eyes held a vibrant green color to them, as if he were born with two emeralds in his sockets.

"I promise," J.R. smiled, chuckling in to the microphone, "you will not be disappointed with this year's entertainment. Not only is your queen returning to you, but fresh talent from all across the region—and the _world_ —have come to compete…"

As Stark went off the typical introductions, Brock looked back towards the sea. The storm still stirred in the distance, not appearing to come any closer, but not any farther away. Brock shifted and ran a hand through his spiked hair. He listened to the rest of Stark's speech, wondering how they were going to scalp some tickets for the show tomorrow without going broke. He realized it was going to be a lot harder to find Serena, and even get her alone, during the mayhem.

"Clemont! Brock!"

Brock looked over to the right and saw Bonnie's blonde head pop up from the sea of people crowded around the gates. He motioned to Clemont and Kaleb to follow him as they pushed their way over to her. He felt Dedenne move past his feet and jump in to his trainer's arms.

Bonnie smiled down at her pokemon then smiled back up at her friends. "When did you get here?"

"How did you get in to the castle?" Clemont asked, looking up at the huge gates, "You didn't sneak in did you?"

"There's a side door, but it's a secret," Bonnie whispered, "Serena told me about it a while ago and gave me a key for when I came to visit."

"Were you with her just now?" Brock looked around as if the question required a top secret answer.

Bonnie's smile faltered, but only for a moment. "I saw her earlier this afternoon, but she had a social—or something—and tonight is the ball."

Brock began to sift through possible scenarios during which they could get to Serena. The ball would be too crowded, and Serena would be too busy, but tomorrow was the showcase.

"We need to see her tonight,"

Bonnie looked at Brock and bit her lip. "Well…why can't it wait until after the showcase? It's only a couple of day—,"

"We don't have _time_ ,"

"What's the big hurry?" Kaleb asked, intrigued.

"I-," Brock wasn't quite sure, "there's just something…I don't know, things feel off."

"We can't just go, bring all this up to Serena before she goes out to perform, because you have a 'feeling'," Bonnie argued, crossing her arms, "Ash is missing now, and he'll still be missing once all of this is over,"

Brock wasn't offended. The girl was only twelve after all, and fiercely protective of Serena ever since Ash disappeared. Bonnie devoted herself to Serena during that time and made sure to defend her heart-broken friend from reporters, to help search for Ash all around the world, to taking care of her during the worst depression. Brock knew, that out of everyone and that even though the girl had been young, Bonnie had seen the worst of Serena's pain.

Clemont looked at Brock for a cue.

Brock shrugged, not sure of any plan at this point. He was anxious to speak to Serena, and he felt that time was against them, but there wasn't much he could do. Something inside him said to be patient, so he became oddly calm despite his intense frustration.

"Okay, then," Clemont muttered, confused by Brock's newfound serenity. He looked out towards the dark clouds still in the distance. "I guess we're waiting."

"We're always waiting," Kaleb said and followed Clemont's gaze to the ocean, "there's always something to wait for, isn't there?"


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Mike had not always been a miner. He had not always been known as Mike.

He had once been a sailor, a factory worker, a store clerk, a lumberjack. He had been all people at all times at one point, but he had always been a drifter. He had always been named Drifter.

Drifter awoke from his sleep in to the cold of the mountain dawn. The sun sprinkled in to the old man's modest shack, made of pine and oak wood. Old snow pillowed the cabin within the breast a steep incline scaling the mountain fifty feet upward, and the sunrise glared up from the ice, onto the old man's face.

Drifter's bones cracked as he lifted his body from the bed. He shuffled in to his slippers, and moved over to the narrow counter where a small pot of water sat on top of a two-ring stove. He flipped on a switch and began heating the water for his morning tea.

As the sun grew stronger, Drifter felt strength return to his body and color seep in to his skin. His white beard turned grey, and then brown, and a familiar vibrancy fell over his eyes. The pale night fell back in to his shadow, cast against the wooden floor, and morning yielded new life.

 _I have returned lost years to you, but for a new purpose._

Drifter closed his eyes to listen. A voice, as soft and familiar as summer air, whispered in through the morning.

 _Go now in to Glorio, for I have chosen my elect. He will return on the wings of darkness and he will seek to kill you, just as he seeks to kill me._

Drifter's eyes popped open. "You have chosen a murderer? You will have him kill me, now? After everything I've done?"

 _What have you done that I have not gone before you and accomplished already?_ the voice replied, stronger now, rattling the window. _Go, and I will be with you, just as I was before. How can the darkness be shown without the light?_

"How can you chose that monster?" Drifter grumbled, drawing a cup from his cabinet, plopping a black tea bag in to the old tin. "I thought you were going to deliver us from this voracity, not submit me to it!"

 _Where were you before I found you? Who were you before I named you?_

Drifted stopped. He drew a sharp breath as his past burst forth in to his mind with appalling clarity. He saw his neglect. His pokemon dying at his feet. He saw his thirst for victory and his hunger for power. He watched himself kill his companions with words and greed and absolute indifference.

 _Just as I have chosen you, I have chosen him. I will show him how much he must suffer for my sake, and for the sake of my creation—pokemon and men alike. Go now._

Drifter nodded. He grabbed his coat and bag, slipping a strap over both shoulders. With his new, youthful strength, he bounded out the door and saw a Pigeot waiting for him, nestled in the snow. The large bird bowed its head at Drifter, signaling its respect. It allowed the middle-aged man to climb on to its soft plumage, and he buried himself in to the light feathers of the bird's back. Drifter looked at his cabin and saw the legendary lion, the source of the whisper, watching him from the snow. Steam hissed up from its large paws as heat reverberated from its body and melted the ice beneath its talons.

With one fell swoop of its mighty wings, the Pigeot took off in to the crisp mountain air, and bounded southward in to the sky.

* * *

At some point, all Brock and the others could do was wait. They didn't have an invitation to the ball, nor would they be able to book a room at the castle without Serena's help. Nonetheless, Bonnie had been able to sneak them all in to Serena's room while the attendants, along with most of the castle staff, kept busy with the ball.

Clemont collapsed on to the white-carpet floor. "Wake me up when she gets here."

Brock watched Bonnie roll her eyes and begin lecturing her brother on how a proper sleep regiment was important, while Kaleb and his Cyndaquil just watched them, bored. Brock took out his long-time friend, Vulpix, and the small pokemon yawned and brushed its head against Brock's leg.

Brock smiled.

If anything still brought him joy, it was his pokemon. There were many things about the creatures that didn't make sense, but perhaps most baffling was their unconditional devotion towards their trainer. No matter how bad Brock messed up, or even when he disappointed them, his pokemon would always forgive him and love him through a loyalty that surpassed reason. Brock often wondered what it was within a pokemon, that allowed the to love without the expectation of return. He wondered what the world would look like, if people could love that way too.

"So, we just wait here?" Kaleb wandered over to the dining table and took a seat, resting his feet on the table. He locked his fingers behind his head and observed the large chamber.

"I don't know," Bonnie scratched her chin, "maybe we should wait somewhere else. What if Serena doesn't like our little 'surprise?'"

Brock walked over to the glass doors, closed before a large balcony. He looked over the water and noticed how the storm hadn't moved. He grunted and turned away, observing the impersonal décor. Though the room wore a luxurious mask, there were no pictures hanging on any of the walls, nor sitting on any table or dresser. The colors were the same as the rest of the city; reds, oranges, purples, yellow…it could have been anyone's room.

"Vulpix…" Brock's companion began sniffing the air, running around the room. The pokemon followed the scent to the bedroom door and scratched at the exit. Brock followed and opened the door.

The pokemon burst forward and dashed down the hallway.

"What the—Vulpix!" Brock jumped and ran after it.

"Brock!" he heard Bonnie call after him, but she didn't follow.

Vulpix led him down four flights of stairs, yapping, and it scurried in to the kitchen, where many of the cooks were at work preparing the light foods for the ball. Brock dodged them while muttering varying forms of apologies, but he knocked a couple pans off the stove causing some staff members to slip and fall on to their backs.

"Vulpix! Get back here now!" Brock shouted, ducking under a large tray being carried by a waiter entering the kitchen as he ran out in to the foyer, still on the pursuit.

Still far behind, Brock watched a pair of hands sweep his Vulpix up off the floor before it could disappear in to the ballroom just across the lobby. He stopped in his tracks and panted, shaking his head back and forth in order to suppress a grimace.

"Lose something?" Gary Oak asked, detaching himself from the crowd of guests floating in to the ball upon their waves of sparkling jewels and fabrics. He was dressed in a clean, fitted tux. His auburn hair was combed back out of his face, revealing the familiar arrogant smirk that seemed to reach even the depths of his dark eyes.

Vulpix continued to squirm, its nose sniffing towards the ballroom.

Brock returned his pokemon with a loud exhale. Before the gym leader could wonder what Vulpix had been searching for, Gary reached out his hand and clasped Brock on the shoulder.

"It's good to see you,"

Brock eyed the trainer up and down. "You got an invitation?"

"Of course I got an invitation," Gary scoffed, almost insulted, "c'mon, you'll be my guest."

"I'm wearing shit,"

"Shit is shit," Gary shrugged, "no one gives a damn. They're too busy obsessing over themselves—I would know—now come on."

Brock let Gary push him over towards the ballroom. All the young trainer had to do was show the guards at the door the invitation, and the two were allowed in. Brock was too curious to refuse.

Inside, the hall glistened with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Huge, velvet curtains covered the immense windows towards the east wall, billowing chains of ribbon arched down from the ceiling, and music from the orchestra at the far end carried the hollow laughter and gossip of the guests upon classical tones.

And then Brock spotted her.

At the back of the room, there was an elevated area closed off by a velvet rope and guarded by security. A long line of guests waited to be allowed in for only a moment, so that they might greet the Kalos Queen. She sat on a rosewood throne, gilded with amethysts and diamonds, and gold leaf accents ran from the top of the chair like veins. Serena greeted her fans with a distant smile, though no one seemed to notice the fragility of her facade.

Brock did. The first thing he noticed were her eyes. They had once been imbued with the warmth of a girl in love. The brightness of them could make anyone pause and look again, but the paradoxical nature of their expression used to captivate. Her eyes had once been ice on fire; snow reflecting the sun.

Now, they only held frost. Her gaze had frozen in to a shallow sheet of ice, one that reflected the world without seeing it, as though she were trying to keep everything away from her by holding up a mirror. Brock felt his heart breaking. He had hoped the warmth in her would last forever. It had been a foolish wish, he realized.

Brock felt Gary step forward to follow his gaze.

"Please tell me that's not her," he muttered, though the statement did not need a reply. Gary knew very well that who they both saw was in fact, Serena. Gary had met her only a couple times before, like Brock, whenever Ash had brought her in to town long ago. Her hair had been short then.

"She's beautiful,"

"She's dead," Brock gave his friend a dark stare, "you can't bring her back to life."

Gary flinched back and tried not to roll his eyes. "Goddammit Brock, sometimes it's like you think I have no morals."

Brock let out a slow breath. He buried his face in his hands for a moment as his reaction subsided. It's true that Gary was a womanizer, but he also stayed loyal to his friends and would never hurt them or those important to them.

"I'm sorry, it's just," Brock clenched his jaw, "she's not the same,"

"We all aren't," the auburn-haired trainer retorted, plucking a small shot from one of the waiters carrying trays of drinks around to the guests. "So are you going to talk to her or what?"

Brock continued to watch Serena from afar. The fanfare announced the commencement of the dancing and the guests continued to flood in to the hall, decorated with jewels and pokemon at their side. For a moment, it all felt cold and lifeless, and the pokemon seemed to be nothing but decor to these people, who waltzed around, dressing them up for sport.

He almost turned around and walked out the door.

xxxxx

Gary didn't know what he'd been expecting, but what he saw sure hadn't been it. The young woman across the ballroom was fair and slender and familiar. Her hair had grown out and darkened, from a pale yellow color to a honey wheat or burnished gold, and even from afar, her eyes were bright blue orbs strong enough to catch a glance and leave a memory that could last years. Gary's heart began to race. He tried to hide the sweat forming at the nape of his neck with a couple more drinks.

Time had made Serena more beautiful, more mature in stature, but she seemed unreachable. The warmth that followed her was gone. Her complexion was pale and icy, stiff like stone. Her red lips no longer posed to curve in to a friendly smile, rather the opposite. Watching her greet her fans and guests, those chattering drunk or excited and vibrant, Gary observed her ache.

He clenched his teeth and glared at the floor. He wondered about the pain Ash had done to her.

"What's the point anymore," Gary found himself saying, but Brock didn't answer—let alone turn around—so he continued, "I loved Ash too, like a brother, but when are you going to let him go. Goddammit, Brock, it's been five years! For all we know he could be halfway around the world, in some different dimension, or he could even be –,"

"Gary, stop,"

The threat in Brock's tone was dark enough to stiffen the trainer in to an even deeper rage. They stood in a tense silence as the guests continued to float by them without a care in the world, as if they were a sea of lifeless molecules, too busy and absorbed in to themselves.

Gary leaned forward again, this time distorting his tone in to a cold suppression of anger . "I just don't want to see you—or anyone else—get hurt. Over and over again. We all had to move on, it's what humans do. We heal, we adapt. You're not letting yourself heal by holding on to him, and you won't be helping Serena by bringing it all back up."

"You don't think I've tried to avoid this?" Brock seethed, wincing as he balled his hands up in to fists until his knuckles turned white. "You really don't think I've tried to forget? To 'move on?' Gary, every time I try, or even feel like I'm getting it all back, something comes up. A clue, a sighting, some dream, letters, messages, freaking journals! They all show up and it all just makes me latch on again and again with some new ignorant hope. It's as if something inside me can't let me give up, like something wants me to find him –I don't know. I can't explain."

Gary rubbed his eyes as though trying to scrap off whatever it was that blinded him to comprehend the meaning of Brock's words. He searched himself for empathy and found little. Deep down, he didn't want to feel anything when it came to Ash anymore. He wanted to stay numb to it and he wanted others to be numb for his sake.

"I know you probably think it's your responsibility to find him," Gary said, downing up another glass of champagne, "but it was his choice to leave, we all know that. He changed. He made his decision to leave us and it's not our job to bring him back. We can't make him. No one can make anyone do anything they don't want to do."

"The Ash I knew wouldn't leave anyone," Brock said in a matter-of-fact way and Gary felt the pang of a deep-rooted guilt, "something happened. Something made him leave and I think he's in trouble. If it were me, or you, Ash wouldn't let go."

Just then, Gary spotted Pikachu. The small pokemon hopped on to Serena's shoulder and nestled itself on to her lap. For a moment, her eyes melted in to a familiar warmth as she looked down and smiled at Pikachu, scratching the back of its ear. Gary watched her disappear behind the amassing crowd of guests pleading for a picture or autograph—swallowed up by their relentless need.

Gary turned to tell Brock what he saw, but his broad-shouldered companion had already begun to move towards Serena and Pikachu. Without a second thought, Gary pushed his limbs forward is anxious pursuit.

xxxxx

"Where could he have gone?" Bonnie asked sitting on Serena's bed, petting Dedenne, and staring at the wall. She chewed the inside of her lip as the minutes turned in to an hour. The sun had set.

Clemont napped on the floor, drifting in and out of consciousness whenever Bonnie voiced concern for either Brock's disappearance, or Serena's impending surprise upon seeing them all here.

"I feel like I'm betraying her," Bonnie thought aloud, not speaking to anyone in particular, "the last thing she needs is us waltzing in and interrogating her about Ash. You can't begin to know how much he hurt her."

Bonnie winced at the memory of Serena, immobile from the pain. The young blonde remembered how unresponsive her best friend had been. For weeks, all Serena did was lie in bed, Pikachu at her side, the two weeping silently together. She didn't eat. She didn't sleep. She would have nightmares and cry out for Ash in the middle of the night. Bonnie would run to get her mother, who'd shake Serena awake and wrap her in her arms, rocking her back and forth. Bonnie would cry too. She would try and read to Serena funny stories, or she would tell her what kinds of Pokemon she'd seen that day. Serena would just listen, as still as a stone, here eyes a thousand miles away and clouded with impending tears. Eventually, she was taken in to the hospital.

"You can't always protect her," Kaleb said, his dark eyes watching Bonnie from where he stood, next to the glass doors.

"I know," Bonnie placed a hand over her heart. Kaleb had been the only one to listen and empathize with Bonnie whenever she spoke about Serena. Serena's pain had also been _her_ pain. Not even Clemont had felt the pang of Serena's loss as deeply as Bonnie had. Only Kaleb seemed to understand and soothe her.

Clemont woke up. He took a deep breath and dragged himself in to a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. His Luxray came up to him and began licking his face.

"I'm awake, you can stop now," Clemont groaned, wiping his wet face, "is Brock back yet?"

"No,"

"I'm sure he'll be back soon," the blonde inventor waved his concern away and fell back on to the floor, "honestly, I'm starving. I could go for a pizza or something."

"I think we should go look for Brock,"

Bonnie looked up at Kaleb, surprised by his suggestion. He rarely ever offered an opinion unless asked, but his eyes were staring intensely out the dark window, looking out in to the night.

"The storm," Clemont muttered, remembering the strange anomaly. He jumped up, ran towards the glass doors, and bounded out on to the balcony.

A harsh wind screamed in to the room, creating violent waves across the curtains, causing them to flap loudly. A low thundering grumbled in the dark, while soundless flashes of lightning entered the room.

"It's practically in the bay!"

Kaleb nodded. "It's traveled over 70 miles in under an hour."

"But it didn't even look like it was moving earlier," Clemont felt a raindrop splash across his nose. Then another came. Then andother and another and soon a torrent began to pound the side of the castle. Clemont jumped back in to the room and, with Kaleb's help, slammed the glass doors shut against the wind.

Dedenne began to whimper. Even Luxray and Kaleb's Cyndaquil seemed uneasy, and both began to growl lowly towards the balcony.

"Damn," Clemont muttered.

"What?" Bonnie watched the tension form on everyone's face, confused as to the source of the worry. "What's going on?"

"Something's in the storm," Kaleb said, facing the window, posed and ready for battle.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 _This is where things get good. Teehee ;) Thanks for all the reviews. Let me know how you like the unfolding of the plot. Also, quick side note...I'm trying to figure out what other past characters to incorporate...so if you have any suggestions/favorites, lemme know. I don't want to make the group too big, but right now I feel as though the dynamic is missing something...we'll see._

* * *

Pancham looked as bored as Serena felt. The small pokemon was leaning against her throne with its arms crossed as the flurry of guests continued from every direction. Serena felt as though she couldn't breathe. The suffocation of the moment threatened to grip her lungs within an unrelenting vice, but her memories offered escape. She stroked her slender fingers down Pikachu's back. She thought of Ash.

The day he became a Champion—all those years ago—hoards of reporters and fans had pushed him out of her reach. He had reached out to grab her. Her hand had slipped from his fingertips. Ash's eyes had stayed with her. Even within a throng of hundreds, he had made sure to keep her in his sight. Later on, he would tell her that she had been his anchor; the only thing that kept him from drowning within the overwhelming ocean of attention.

And now the attention was on her. Ash was no where to be seen. She had no anchor. She seemed suspended in the heart of the sea, with no way to swim to the surface. The waves were too big and she still was not strong enough to move.

Sylveon wrapped a ribbon around Serena's hand, sensing her inner unrest. Serena offered her companions a small smile. Her heart swelled and lifted itself from the floor of her chest. It was a relief to know she could still love.

As the first hour of the ball came to an end, the line of guests dwindled before the throne. The dancing was about to commence.

"What do you mean we can't see her?!"

Serena heard a shuffle growing behind the last wall of visitors.

"You're not wearing the proper attire to see the queen, let alone to be at the ball," replied one of her guards, "who let you in anyway?"

Serena tried to peer around the line of fans waiting for a picture with her. The voice was familiar. Pikachu jumped on to her shoulder, sniffing the air, and Serena lifted herself out of her seat.

"Pikachu!" Pikachu squealed and jumped past the crowd and in to a Brock's arms. The guard flinched back and looked between the scene and Serena.

Serena's world spun and halted all with a moment. Her heart jumped with the faintest bit of joy at seeing Pikachu's excitement, but that happiness fell at the sight of the broad-shouldered man. Brock looked dark and tired. He looked the way Serena felt most days, and she knew, just by seeing him, that he was going to hurt her. Brock wanted answers, answers that were so far hidden beneath layers of dead soul and memory. She would have dig up to find them and the pain she had gotten so good at numbing would find its way back in to her being.

Serena stiffened.

"Your Highness?" began the guard, but Serena nodded and allowed Brock to come in. He was followed by another familiar figure.

"Nice title; suits you well," Gary Oak moved towards her with a confident stride and gave her a crooked smirk, one that reminded her so much of Ash. He took her gloved hand and lowered his head to kiss the top of it.

"Hello, Serena," Brock nodded, stiff and awkward. He cleared his throat and folded his large arms over his chest in an attempt to regain control of the situation, "how've you been?"

"What a surprise to see you here," Serena breathed, her dress suddenly felt too tight.

Brock looked down, self-conscious of his cargo pants and jacket, "Yes, well, I didn't plan on coming to the ball, but…" Brock shrugged.

There was an awkward silence.

Gary dug his hands in to the pockets of his dress pants, shifting back and forth from the balls and toes of his feet. "Nice party you got here."

"Clemont and Bonnie are upstairs," Brock said, "Kaleb too."

"What a happy coincidence," Serena sat back in her chair, feeling light-headed, "that you all came here on the same day and ran in to each other."

Brock shifted. "Bonnie wanted to tell you, but I didn't think it'd be a good idea."

"Why not? I always love it when friends come to visit," Serena bit her lip. An overwhelming desire to sob took hold of her, and she had to stifle a cry by placing a hand over her mouth.

"I think we should leave her alone now," Gary muttered, but Serena heard him and shook her head, dazed.

"I think that's a good idea," Serena whimpered, her voice cracking with fear, "whatever you're really here for, I don't think this is the time, or place."

Brock gave her an unflinching stare, but nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry."

The two bowed and were escorted away. Pikachu jumped back on to her lap and lifted its small eyes towards her, concerned.

"Pika…" Pikachu wanted to know why they were here. Serena did too, but she was afraid of the reason.

 _xxxxx_

"That went well, good thinking there, Brock," Gary grumbled as the two walk away from what was, perhaps, the most awkward moment of their entire lives.

Yet Brock was unfazed. As Gary continued to rant about the foolishness of his approach, Brock felt oddly satisfied by Serena's reaction.

"I need to go back to the others," Brock said, sensing that his job here was done.

"What?" Gary shook his head, baffled, "So you make your entrance and and then just leave?"

"Yes."

"You might as well have punched Serena in the face."

Brock stopped and turned around to give his friend a stern glare. "Look. There's nothing more we can do. I'd rather her know we're here."

He turned back around to head for the door, but was stopped short halfway through his trek across the ballroom. A strong hand had gripped Brock's forearm, bringing him to a jolting halt.

Gary jumped, his hand at his belt ready to call on his companions.

"That won't be necessary," said the deep voice belonging to the strong grip. "I've come here to protect you, not to harm you."

"Who the hell are you?" Gary demanded, his nostrils flaring

Brock placed a hand over the chest of the fiery-eyed trainer, attempting to still the moment while he tried to recall where he had heard this voice before.

The man standing before Brock, polished and calm in a tux, could have been in his early-forties. He had a thick, brown beard that was cut and trimmed short around his jaw, while his eyes held no recognizable tint in their blue depths. The only trace of familiarity was in the man's low, formal tone, as if he spoke with the accent of older days.

"No, you are not drunk. You have met me before," the man said to Brock, as if well-aware of the gym-leader's thoughts, "I will explain what I can, but first follow me. The rain is coming."

Brock nodded.

"This has got to be the strangest day of my life," Gary muttered.

"No, I know him." Brock sounded distant and unsure, but turning back to the strange gentleman, he asked, "Where are we going?"

"To war, essentially, but you'll see soon enough," and the man smiled before turning away towards the exit. Before continuing through the crowd, he looked back over his shoulder, "Will you follow me?"

Again, Brock nodded, but Gary refused. Brock watched his friend look back at Serena and shake his head.

"You go ahead, but I'm not following some loon," Gary said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, "I'll catch up with you later."

Brock was about to protest, but the man again took Brock's arm. "Your friend has made his choice. Come, we don't have much time."

The man ambled out of the ballroom, and Brock felt his limbs disobey sense and follow. He looked back one last time to see if Gary had meant his refusal, but the young trainer had already disappeared back in to the crowd. This fueled Brock to relinquish his hesitation and pursue the man in to the foyer, where he waited for Brock to catch up.

The foyer was dark compared to the dazzling light spilling out of the ballroom. Outside, there was no light illuminating the castle's stained glass windows—not even a star—and the glass began to rattle. A few security guards and staff were running silently back and forth various areas of the castle, not even pausing to notice Brock and the strange man standing in the middle of the foyer. There was a sense of urgency that had not yet been verbally acknowledged out of fear of perturbing guests. Brock watched as guards exchanged glances before calling out their pokemon and running to opposite directions, disappearing through different corridors.

Questions formed along the tip of Brock's tongue, but they all vied to be asked at once, thus blocking the route to his voice and falling wordlessly in to the air. He clenched his jaw at the sight of the strange man standing very still with his eyes glued to the darkness against the windows. He appeared to be listening for something. Brock began to doubt his ability to make rational decisions.

"He's come sooner than I thought," the man said, more to himself, but then turned to Brock, "your friends are in trouble."

Brock took a moment to process these words but then bounded instantly up the grand staircase. The man followed him up and down the right-hand corridor, and then up again a set of spiral stairs winding through multiple floors of the castle. Panting, Brock found Serena's hall and sprinted forward towards her door.

He burst forth in to the room.

Inside, the room was a disaster. Bonnie and Kaleb had multiple pokemon out and were battling a sleuth of dark counterparts. Clemont had his Luxray and Chestnaught helping him hold the glass doors of the balcony shut, as the pokemon riding the darkness outside tried to push their way in.

Every opponent seemed to be in a mega form, for they were larger and darkly colored. They were primarily ghost and dark types; Mega Gengars and Sableyes and Banettes. There were even a couple Mega Aerodactyl, and more trying to pound their way in. A number of shadow balls flew across the room, missing their intended target, and blowing holes in the walls.

Brock sent out his Swampert and Toxicroak. He pointed to the multiple Mega Banettes attacking Kaleb's team and ordered, "Swampert, mudshot! Toxicroak, crunch!"

Swampert missed, but Toxicroak latched on to its target and help on to its arm as the Banette growled and flew in to the wall to pound its attacker off. Toxicroak held on and dragged the pokemon on to the floor, slamming it in to the carpet, ripping the Banette with its teeth again and again until it lost consciousness. Its black blood seeped in to the floor.

"Where the heck have you been?!" Clemont shouted, his blonde hair glued to the sides of his face with sweat dripping from the tips, down his cheeks, and off his chin.

"Oh, you know," Brock evaded an attack from a Mega Gengar and sent out his Manectric to retaliate with a thunderbolt, "I thought I'd check out the party downstairs,"

"And then you realized the real party's up here, huh?" Kaleb smirked and shouted for his Gogoat to look out a Sableye's faint attack.

"Our pokemon are getting tired," Bonnie cried, returning her weary Kirlia and sending out a Azumarill. "There're so many of them!"

"And there's gonna be more in a second if I don't get help with this door!" Clemont shouted, he and his pokemon, exhausted.

Just then, Brock remembered the strange man behind him as he called out a Dragonair. He ordered the dragon pokemon to use barrier and a wall of light sealed the glass doors shut and reinforced the glass. Clemont and his pokemon stepped back as the creatures outside began attacking the barrier, but to no avail. Their assaults were thuds against the wall. Clemont then ordered his Luxray and Chestnaught to take out one of the Mega Aerodactyls attacking his sister.

Clemont then turned to the stranger, "Thanks."

The man nodded. "Don't get comfortable. That barrier won't last the hour."

"What's going on?" Kaleb grunted, taking a tackle from a Gengar appearing behind him. Bonnie rushed to his side to help him up while her Azumarill took out the ghost pokemon. Kaleb rubbed the back of his head, "What kind of swarm _is_ this?"

"This is no swarm," the man explained, ordering his Dragonair to use dragonbreath on a Mega Aerodactyl, "these pokemon are being controlled."

"Okay, time to tell us who you are," Brock growled, marching up to the stranger, "and what you know."

The man and his Dragonair barely evaded a hyperbeam erupting from the Aerodactyl, and the beam hit the wall and seared through two other rooms beyond the plaster. Shouts from castle guards and guests could be heard from the hallway.

"Explanations will have to wait," the stranger said, "but for now, call me Drifter."

 _xxxxx_

Serena knew something was wrong. She could hear guards whispering to each other. They sounded distressed. All around the ballroom, there were some leaving their positions in a hurry towards the exit.

"Pika…?" Pikachu mumbled, his cheeks sparking in irritation, and he looked up at Serena.

Serena noticed Maximus Klein entering the ballroom. Max was the castle's head chief of security; a largely built man with some years on him. White hairs flaked his trimmed beard and small scars covered his weathered face. His entrance did not go unnoticed. Multiple guards followed him as he walked straight-faced up to Palermo, who was flirting with a potential investor near the bar.

Serena watched their exchange. Max whispered something in her ear and Palermo's face fell for half a second. She then turned back to her guest and gave him a reassuring smile. She placed a hand on the investor's arm and, by reading her lips, Serena could tell that Palermo was excusing herself. She silently left with Max out the door as a few guests exchanged glances at the scene, but they shrugged and carried on with the festivities.

Serena got up to follow, but a few of Max's guards had detached themselves from their chief and were now walking up to her.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we have strict orders to keep you in this room," said one of the guards, holding up a hand to stop her.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing to worry about. Please, take a seat and enjoy yourself. You're safe here."

"Safe?" Serena repeated, clenching her jaw. She stood in place for a minute or so, looking towards the exit and wondering how she was going to make her escape.

"Ma'am, it's nothing. Please sit down."

"I have friends here," Serena said, "I need to know if they're in trouble."

"Depends, are they where they should be?" the guard asked, glowering at the Kalos Queen.

"One is staying with me in my room,"

Both guards fought to keep a blank expression, but one revealed the flash of a grimace. The two looked at each other and nodded before one of them moved off to the side to speak in to his watch.

"Are my friends in danger?" Serena demanded, "I have a right to know!"

Pancham, Pikachu, and Sylveon all stood behind her, reflecting her tension.

"There's no way of knowing. All we know is that there's a pretty bad storm outside,"

"The castle's been breached," the other guard muttered aloud in shock, "half of the rooms are being swarmed."

Serena began to make a run for it.

She didn't make it far. One of the guards caught her by the wrist and was about to slam her back in to her chair until another figure intervened. There was a grunt, a pound, and a thud.

Serena turned around to see Gary Oak standing over the guard's unconscious body, his knuckles already swollen and bloody. He turned back to her and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her forward.

"Come on," he muttered gruffly, "time to go."

The two ran towards the exit and out the ball; Serena's pokemon were close behind. Serena snatched her arm back from Gary and began sprinting up the stairs to her room. He followed behind. Pikachu stayed close by her feet, its bright cheeks already lit with electricity.

When she reached her floor, Serena could already smell smoke and hear the shattering of wood and glass. Her heart began to pound in her ears. The door had already been blown off its hinges and flashes of light were pouring out of the room.

"Wait, watch out!" Gary yelled as Serena ran inside without hesitation. He managed to dive on top of her just as a shadow ball zoomed past their faces, exploding on one of the cabinets. "Goddammit, what the hell is going on here?!"

Serena opened her eyes. The room stood in complete catastrophe. Shards of wood from her bed posts were scattered all around the floor, mixed in with burnt plaster from the walls and ceiling. Glass from the chandelier above rained down on the fight with every back and forth assault from the pokemon amidst battle, and all the furniture lay ruined and broken.

Pikachu immediately began to join the fight, using thunder on the last Mega Aerodactyl still conscious in the room. The fossil pokemon howled and fainted with the blow, its electrified body landing in the fireplace.

Serena shoved Gary off of her and crawled over to one of the nightstands that used to be by her bed. She ignored the pain shooting up her elbow as glass and wood splintered her skin. The nightstand needed a key, which she usually kept under her pillow, but there was no way of knowing where it could be now. Instead, she grabbed one of nightstand's broken legs and smashed the body to pieces until the contents of the drawer spilled out. Inside were her old princess keys, print pictures, and a small, blue ribbon.

She took the ribbon and left the rest.

"You all have to leave; more rooms have been breached!" shouted one of the castle guards assisting Brock and Clemont fight off a swarm of five Mega Gengar.

"The barrier's about to break! I'm going to set off a smokescreen," a man Serena didn't recognize was shouting over at Brock, "tell everyone to return all their Pokemon on the count of three and _run_ downstairs. Meet at the foyer!"

"You heard, Drifter," Brock repeated the instructions over the mayhem.

Clemont nodded and then noticed Serena. "When did you get here?!"

"Just now," Serena gasped and ordered Sylveon to use psybeam on one of the Sableyes. "Glad to see you made yourselves at home."

"We always do, but the welcome wasn't as warm as I remember," Clemont chuckled nervously, and despite everything, Serena felt comforted to see her old friend.

"Okay, 1…2…3…" Drift set off the smokescreen. All the trainers returned their pokemon and began spilling out of the room, in to the hall. Pikachu hopped on to Serena's shoulder and cried out from all the smoke. She wrapped the small pokemon in his arms, and felt Clemont's hand lead her and Bonnie down the stairs before him. Serena also took hold of Bonnie and the two led the way for the others back in to the foyer, where guests were now coming out of the ballroom to see what all the noise was about.

Once everyone was through, Maximus appeared from the opposite end of the grand staircase and called for all of the corridors to be barricaded.

"Call in the national police; and begin escorting guests back in to the ballroom," the chief ordered, and the protests and shouts of the guests began as the castle began to rumble ahead.

Drifter called out his Dragonair again to use barrier on the stained glass above the grand entrance, and he fell in to deep thought.

Serena watched the strange man, and he turned to stare at her. His bright eyes seared through her with an ethereal intensity that made her shudder.

"Everyone, remain calm," Max announced from the top of the grand staircase to the masses gathering below, "we are experiencing severe weather outside and it's not safe for anyone to leave. Please remain civil as our security escorts you to back in to the ballroom. We will let everyone leave once its safe."

"In the meantime, everyone enjoy yourself!" Palermo smiled, gesturing back towards the ball.

Just then, the lights went out, and darkness flooded in to castle. The crowd flew in to a frenzy. Screams and the thuds of people falling over each other, echoed all around while some banged their fists on the thick front door of the castle.

Tears began to well up in Bonnie's eyes, but Serena held the younger girl close. Pikachu stood by, ready to defend the two if necessary.

"Manectric use flash!" Clemont called from somewhere behind her, and the great foyer grew dimly lit by the small source of white light emitting from the pokemon.

There was a pause where everyone went quiet. The thudding on the windows stopped. There was only a buzzing sound coming from the electricity Manectric produced.

"You think its over?" someone asked.

The silence continued.

"The storm's gone!" people began to cheer.

"Nobody move!" Max shouted over the crowd, "Nobody move until we've cleared the area."

The chief nodded towards a group of his men, who soundly moved through the guests to the front door. They began to unlatch the heavy locks, their hands trembling. Their pokemon, Growlithes and Mightyenas, growled at beside the guards, still tense and uneasy.

They cracked the door open, but still kept a large steel dead bolt secure.

Serena felt Bonnie's grip tighten on her arm, and the Kalos Queen returned with a reassuring embrace. Serena's eyes were fixed on the door and the guards. She could hardly feel herself breathing. Her heart raced to her head. Adrenaline coursed through her veins like dopamine, and she grew high from the sensation. It had been a while since Serena had felt anything to this intensity, and for the moment, that was all she could think about.

She could feel her right hand pulsing around the ribbon.

A few moments went by, and all appeared calm outside. One of the guards was returning to report his observations, when a deafening roar pierced the darkness, scaring the last of the light away with its thundering.

The windows rattled. The earth quaked for an instant. Everyone, except Drifter, fell to the floor and covered their ears. Serena gritted her teeth against the pain and watched pieces of small debris rattle on the floor. She looked up and saw Drift staring at the door with a grim expression, a frown hidden beneath his beard. He was saying something, but Serena couldn't hear anything but a high-pitched ringing caused by the roar.

Clemont and Brock suddenly appeared. From their lips, Serena saw Clemont ask if she was okay, and she nodded before he turned to Bonnie. She went from being momentarily deaf, to hearing muffled voices.

Still dazed, Serena looked around the foyer and saw the entire crowd in panic. People were sobbing or abandoning their Pokemon to make a run for it.

Even Palermo had disappeared.

As Brock and Clemont helped the girls up, Gary and Kaleb appeared, their Pokeballs drawn and ready. Bonnie ran in to Kaleb's embrace, and her wrapped his free arm around her protectively. Serena looked around the room for Pikachu, and found him near her feet. They exchanged glances and nodded, preparing themselves for whatever they were about to face beyond the door.

"Stop it," Drifter grunted, pushing towards them, "keep your Pokemon at your belt. This fight is beyond you."

Gary gave the man a dark glare. "So we should just give up, huh? I don't think so, old man."

"Not even all the Pokemon in this room and bring down the beast heading our way," Drift looked at the trainers with the stern look one would see a father give his children, "you're going to have to run while I distract him."

"Look, pal, I don't know who you think you are," Gary spat, his eyes wild with a fearful rage, "but I'm not—"

" _Him_?" Brock echoed, "Who is out there?"

There was an explosion of blue fire.

The doors of the castle blew open. Bodies flew across the foyers and formed a charred heap on the floor. The moonlight spilled on to the tile, eclipsed by an enormous shadow as tall as the 15ft doorframe. Smoke blew in to the room then subsided in the darkness, and the crackling of the blue fire reverberated upon the debris.

Serena coughed and shook the soot from her face and eyes. She found herself on the floor, bruised and cut by the blow. She struggled to sit up, and found Pikachu unconscious on the floor beside her legs. Gasping, she gathered the small pokemon in her arms.

"That," Clemont's voice whispered in awe, "is the largest Charizard I have ever seen."

Serena looked up.

The pokemon was black, with blue flames dancing on its tail and around its mouth. It appeared to be a Mega, but even then the Charizard was four times taller than its normal form. Even its body seemed thicker, corded with muscle, and the fire burning around its mouth was so hot, Serena could feel its heat from where she sat, thirty feet away.

No one dared to move.

In the silence, the Charizard huffed and broke the air with a second roar, searing fear in to the hearts of all who beheld the creature, and everyone was rendered paralyzed.

Another figure moved from the back of the Charizard. The tall, slender shadow slid down the pokemon's back and landed lightly on the floor. The figure was a man, but all one could make out was his silhouette in front of the fire.

"I hope you've had enough destruction for one day," Drifter's voice called out above the sounds of burning woods and glass, "tell me, did your mission actually have purpose? Or was it a cruel manipulation of fear."

The man didn't respond. Serena peered harder in to the darkness to make out a feature, but she could see nothing. She only had the faintest sense that the man was staring directly at her.

"Leave now," Drifter said again, "tell your master that he has declared war on the Sun. His days are numbered. As are yours."

Just then, a piece of burning wood cracked from the wall before the shadow's feet. The fire illuminated his face.

Serena went cold. Her entire body began to break out in shivers. She began to tremble as a searing sensation of dread swept down her veins as though she were free falling. It drew the color from her face and the strength from her bones. Serena began to feel faint. She found her breath jagged and painful, as though she were inhaling a thousand splinters at once.

Ash Ketchum stood before the fire. He stared at her.

His eyes were black.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

 _So, quick note before we continued. I want to address somethings such as, the involvement of the Solgaleo and Lunala in this fanfic. I know that, obviously, we don't know too much about them yet, but their appearances (especially Solgaleo) inspired this good vs. evil story. Ultimately, that is what this story is about...like so many stories, it will address the evil vs. good inside us and the evil vs. good in the world, and how the choices we make can effect those we love._

 _It will address the subject of love too, of course, and address its purpose in our lives, its powers and limitations, and its necessity._

 _This story is also about how people cannot save others. We cannot change a person unless they desire to change themselves and even then, we cannot make them want to change. I wanted to write a story where not only Ash is more complicated, but where the love between Serena and Ash is more complicated too. Ever since the snowball scene, I've been thinking about how deep I could take the development of their relationship...I've also always been curious as to the origins of Ash's density and wondered what would happen if it were to finally break._

 _Anyway. I just thought I'd explain some of the complexities you'll see here. I don't mean to go super deep here, but I feel as though depth is what brings a story to life. Another side note: I'm pretty sure I mentioned Serena still being stuck with her fennekin or Braixen...? but no, by this time it's definitely a Delphox and so you'll see that I changed the evolutionary state of her pokemon...so, make a mental note. I didn't mean to be inconsistent._

 _Let me guys know what you think. Reviews are more than welcome, as well as questions and structured criticism. I'm always wanting to know in what ways I can improve._

* * *

before

The voice began like a dull murmur; like that grumbling in the back of a throat one doesn't realize he or she is making. At first, the whisper could only be heard in nightmares, and it began about the time Ash fell in love.

In the nightmares, Ash would see his pokemon. He would see Serena. He would see his father walking out the door—his mother crying. He would see Serena leave too. And the voice would hiss, as though it were the manifestation of his anger, verbalized in the dream.

 _See, you're not good enough for them…see, they don't love you…_

Ash would wake up. Serena would be holding him, sweat dripping from his hair and on to her arm. Ash would look up. He would take a minute to make sure she was real.

When she kissed him, he would know that she was.

 _xxxxx_

When the losses continued, Ash would dwell upon the voice. He would recall the hissing and found that it had grown louder than before. He began to hear it even while he was awake. It began to whisper all sorts of things.

 _See how weak you are…you will always be weak…it is why they all leave…_

Ash would rub his eyes, his head, his hair, and his eyes again. He would look around and see nothing, and still hear the voice as clear as a refined diamond. Pikachu would look at him concerned. The pokemon would try to cheer him up, cuddling up against his cheek.

Serena would ask him what's wrong.

 _Don't tell her…she'll know how weak you really are…it is why they all leave…_

Ash would say nothing and hide the lie with a smile. He would wrap his arms around her waist and bring her in to a kiss. He would feel her heart against his chest and, for the time being, he would feel content with just that.

* * *

after

Time did not exist. Serena stood outside of it. She saw Ash, and nothing but Ash, standing before her. The rest of the world—the fire, the wood, the floor, the people—dissolved in to the air like the wisps of a dandelion. Her memories projected themselves on to his shadow, and she watched her old life fall in to the arms of his. She watched a boy touching the face of a girl. She watched the girl reach out to touch him and she watched the boy pull away. She watched the boy disappear. She watched the girl disappear too.

The flood of memories disappeared in to the dark, absorbed by the shock of the man Ash had become.

He had grown tall—as tall as Brock—lean with muscle. His hair was shorter, but still untamed and unruly; as thick and black as the scales of his dragon. His face did not reveal any twitch or hint of emotion. Even as he stared at her, he watched her the way stone watches those who pass by it, with no regard.

Even then, out of all his physical changes, his eyes pierced Serena more than all the rest. They were no longer that golden-amber color, glowing the warmth of boyish innocence. They were no longer full. They were without reflection. They no longer belonged to a boy. Everything they saw was absorbed in to a hole, emptier than the voids formed in space. His eyes were colorless.

"Ash…"

Serena heard Brock whisper. She heard voices begin to rise, but she couldn't make sense of them. She felt hands shaking her and she felt the weight of Pikachu's unconscious body in her arms.

Ash was still watching her. His face began to soften until—

"Get out," Drifter ordered, as one with authority, "you have declared your war, now go."

With what looked to be great effort, Ash tore his eyes away from Serena and the face of stone returned.

He began to speak. In a voice deeper than she remembered, cold and void of any melodic intonation, he addressed the strange man:

"Drifter; man of many faces. My master has called for your death. I have been ordered to kill you. I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry," Drifter sighed, his eyes softened by the pain of a deep sorrow, "you are doing what you believe you must."

Ash kept his body rigid. "It's the only way I'll be free."

"Ash," the old man's voice broke in the way a father's would at the sight of his dying son, "he will never free you. He will never let you go."

A shadow fell over Ash's face. "He's promised."

"He'll promise the world and give you nothing but ashes, don't you get it? Why are you so afraid?"

"This is my fate," and there was a tremble. Serena saw Ash fight to stay focused, "I didn't choose this."

"You chose it the day you chose to fear," Drifter looked at Serena.

Ash followed his stare and Serena began to weep. She bit her lip to stifle the sobs in her throat, but one, and two, and three tears ran freely down her cheeks.

"I'm not afraid," Ash whispered, his eyes widening. He ripped them away from Serena again, and set them back on Drifter, who had a bright pokeball in his hand.

"Oh, but you are." Drifter released a Dragonite, as large as the Charizard and with scales as bright as his opponent's was dark. The pokeball returning to his hand then became a tall, luminous sword of yellow light. Drifter charged at Ash.

Ash jumped back with supernatural speed and drew a tall blue sword from his belt. He grabbed one of Charizard's horns and swung himself on to its neck.

Drifter leapt on to his Dragonite. He looked at the defenseless crowd of people scattered on the floor of the foyer and flew out of the castle, drawing Charizard's fire away from the others.

Ash took one last look at Serena, and the pokemon in her arms, before taking off towards the night sky in hot pursuit.

 _xxxxx_

Brock stared after the dragons, as shocked as all the rest. He moved his mouth, but found that he could not formulate a sound. He crawled back on to his knees. He watched, through the hole in the castle where the doors should be, dragon fire sear the sky in bright blue and red flashes as hot and fast as lightning. He felt the ground tremble at the power of their sound, and picked up a piece of rattling glass off the floor to look at it in wonder.

The room had been shocked quiet. Whispers were beginning to form at the thundering battle raging outside. When pillar of fire struck close to the castle, someone screamed. Brock lifted his head to look around the debris.

"Brock!" Gary hissed, grabbing on to Brock's shoulder, "Snap out of it, we need to get out of here,"

Brock found Serena, lying on the floor a few feet away, Pikachu still in her arms. She was staring out in to the darkness, the way Brock imagined she would—pale from a stunning fear.

"Those pokemon," Gary watched the exchange of power light up the night, but was still shaking Brock to snap out of his daze, "those were not Mega's…they didn't have key stones, their pokemon weren't holding mega stones, and they were at least three times bigger than they should be. What the hell is going on?"

"Gary's right," Clemont coughed up some smoke from his nostrils and took out a small cloth to wipe the dust from his glasses, "those pokemon were Ultimates."

"Ultimates?" Gary echoed, shaking his head, "What do _you_ know?"

"Hey! What's your problem?" Clemont groaned, sitting up from the floor uneasily. He flinched as a shock of pain webbed through his arm.

Brock rubbed his face and his eyes and his temples. Everything sounded so distant, like hollow reverberations swallowing him through a funnel. He looked at the Gary and then Clemont, and saw them arguing. At one point, Gary shoved Clemont over and the blonde retaliated with a tackle.

"Stop! Stop it, please!" Bonnie ran from Kaleb's side to break the two up, "Guys, that was Ash. Ash is _back_ …after five years…he's back!"

"Yea, and he tried to make us all stir-fry just now," Gary growled, taking out a pokeball from his belt, "he's as good as dead."

"Are you crazy?" Kaleb snatched Gary's arm, struggling to hold him back. "You'll get your pokemon killed."

Brock stood up. He yanked Gary back by the collar and threw him down to the floor in a display of effortless strength.

"What the—?" Gary choked, grimacing up at the others, covered in dust and debris.

Brock pushed past everyone, careful to maneuver through the fallen pieces of stone and wood. He walked past the burning doors, lying in pieces off their hinges before the entrance to the castle, and searched for the dragons. He searched for Ash. He needed to see him again. He needed to make sure that he had been real.

It was too dark. Brock couldn't see anything but the silhouettes of the dragons flash by whenever they flew through explosions of fire. He fell back against the charred doorpost. People began running out of the castle, screaming and yelling and calling out their pokemon to fly them away or make a path through the swarms still flying within the storm.

Brock turned around and began walking back inside. He was bumped and jostled by the current swimming against him. Even Maximus Klein led a battalion of castle security out the front, Palermo tucked safe inside their ranks, and they pushed past guests and staff and pokemon as though they were swatting away flies. Brock returned to the center of the foyer, finding most of his companions still dazed on the floor.

"Where's Serena?" Brock asked, looking to where she had been, finding nothing. He whipped back to Clemont and the others, "Did you see where she went?"

"Brock, what's wrong with you?" Clemont tried grabbing his friend by the arm, but was overpowered, "you're acting like a psycho!"

Bonnie tugged on Brock's sleeve and pointed to the other end of the hall, "Serena's over there."

Brock squinted through the dark and saw Serena crouching near a small girl wearing dirty ribbons in her dusty hair. The girl was crying beside a large wooden beam, trying her hardest to lift it off of something. Serena, with Pikachu still in her arms, called on her Delphox and Sylveon to uphold the huge pillar long enough for a man underneath the debris to crawl out of his prison. The small girl ran up to, Brock assumed, her father, who thanked Serena before scooping his daughter up in to his arms and running with her out the door. Serena then moved towards a Mudkip and a Machop lying motionless on the floor. She had Sylveon heal them and the Pokemon jumped to life and ran, realizing they had been abandoned by their trainers, at the sound of the dragon fire.

"Kaleb, you're hurt!" Bonnie cried, seeing blood seep from a hole in the young trainer's sleeve.

Kaleb lift his arm, but gave a deep groan. Brock watched Clemont examine the wound and assessed that Kaleb had been wounded by a deep laceration on one of his triceps. The gym leader ripped a piece of tattered curtain he found on the floor and wrapped so tightly around the cut that Kaleb gnashed his teeth together in pain.

 _Look down at your belt…_

Brock heard a voice invade his mind. He looked around and saw nothing but chaos, but the voice that had spoken to him just sounded like a summer wind. Heat vibrated from its tone. The broad-shouldered trainer looked down at his belt and noticed a Pokeball that hadn't been there before. It was glowing within a bright, red light.

 _Gather your friends…call upon the pokemon at your side and it will bring you to safety…you must hurry._

Without question, Brock ran over to Serena. He grabbed her by the arm and told her to return her pokemon. Her eyes, red and swollen, questioned him, but she did not have the energy to refuse. He led her back over to the others. Gary demanded to know what was going on now while Clemont continued to work on Kaleb's injury. Bonnie watched the scene, stricken with fear.

Before things could grow even more out of hand, Brock took hold of the pokeball glowing at his belt, and released it from his hands.

* * *

before

Serena could feel his breath on her neck. She could feel his fingers, light and timid at her stomach, moving down and around her waist. She could feel his body press against hers, hungry to feel her skin against his, but careful not to hurt her. She could feel his lips moving back up to her jaw, up to her ear, back down to the corner of her mouth.

She touched the sides of his face. She slid one hand under his cap, letting it fall off as she ran her fingers through his thick hair. She pulled his lips on to hers and felt herself soar under their heat. Her hands worked their way back down his neck to his shoulders, where she helped him out of his jacket.

And then out of his shirt.

He stopped to look down at her. His bright eyes, amber and glistening with nervous fear, meeting her in a fragment of frozen time. Serena only arched up to kiss his neck in response and he fell back down with her. She guided his hands to her skirt, to her cardigan, and then to the blouse underneath.

He kissed her again, so deeply she thought they'd melt together, right then, in to one person. Eventually, farther in to the night, they did.

Serena had been 17.

* * *

after

Serena was dreaming. She was dreaming about the moment she loved Ash, when she gave herself up to him. In her dream, she remembered thinking she could save him. She remembered thinking he would stay.

She remembered waking up and seeing the sunlight pour in to the window of his room, washing over her naked back, and still feeling cold. There had been a note on his side of the bed. She had read it and had begun to cry.

She remembered running to his closet. She remembered running downstairs.

She remembered finding everything gone.

* * *

 _So what's going to happen next? Where did our heroes end up?_

 _Also, other questions that we should be thinking about:_

 _What exactly happened to Ash? Something corrupted him...but how, why, and when?_

 _And why couldn't he be saved? Why is he back now? Who is he possessed by?_

 _Also, who is Drifter?_


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

Serena woke up.

The first thing she noticed was the grass. She could feel it underneath her fingers, clenching her muscles in to the dirt, savoring the cool softness of the weedy textures. Her vision remained a blur, but a brightness rained down on her from above. She could hear leaves, rustling within a dry breeze that felt much colder than a southern spring wind. The sound was everywhere.

Large trees began shake in to focus above her, filtering sunlight through a thin but high canopy, and the wind made vibrant the berry blooms, teasing the first buds on the branches with the remnants of winter chill. Serena gasped in to consciousness.

She lifted her head. Her neck felt as stiff as the dress she still wore from the gown, but she forced it to turn and scan the forest around her. The scent of pecha berries kissed her nose and she wondered how that was possible. They didn't grow in the south, or anywhere near Glorio for that matter. This made her worry. She had didn't recognize the forest, nor any landmark to aid her natural compass.

Serena sat up from the ground, picking blades of grass out of her hair, slapping them off of her sleeves. Suffocating in the thick fabrics of her dress, she decided to rip the first three layers of the gown, leaving only her light slip, and her belt, on underneath. She checked to make sure all of her pokemon were still at her side, and felt relief push up on her chest. She had half-expected them to be gone. She had half-expected to be alone.

In the clearing, Bonnie, Clemont, and the other two trainers slept in the grass. They had not yet stirred since Serena awoke. She studied them all with a dazed expression, as though this moment should be a dream. The forest was beautifully green, like an emerald city built up with soft clouds of plants, vibrant with gem-colored flowers and blossoms she had never seen before. The bark on the trees reminded her of the rich chocolate found in Snowbelle during the winter, where Kalosians celebrated the holidays by stacking mountains of fudge before the storefronts on the street.

"Pi..Pika?"

Serena whipped around to cast her gaze behind her shoulder. She saw a bright yellow body, stirring within a sea of billowing grass, and memories of where she been invaded the facets of her mind. She scrambled over towards the pokemon, wrapping him in a suffocating embrace as fire and glass and shadows ravished her senses, overwhelming her eyes, pushing tears from their ducts. She buried her face in to Pikachu's fur and only saw Ash.

"You're crying?"

Serena looked up.

A small pokemon floated before her, like a green fairy, with a round head that—coming up to a point and sticking upward in the back—resembled the shape of an onion. It had large baby-blue eyes, with thick black rings around them, and a pair of green antennae that were tipped blue. The pokemon maneuvered around Serena, its clear cellophane wings, beating softly beside the breeze.

"You're crying?" the pokemon asked again, without moving its lips, speaking through thought. It blinked directly in to Serena's eyes, "Will you tell me why?"

Serena jumped back as the winged fairy moved closer, its eyes growing larger from the closing distance. Serena wiped her cheeks and stood up. Pikachu scurried on to her shoulder and greeted the pokemon as though he had seen it before.

"You know me?" the pokemon replied to Pikachu, and the yellow rodent nodded, smiling, "Of course…You helped me long ago…you and another."

Then Pikachu's ears fell, and his face grew dark. He nodded, but sounded defeated, "Pika…pi,"

"No wonder he looked so familiar," the fairy empathized.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Serena demanded, comforting Pikachu by bringing her in to her arms.

"You mean Drifter did not tell you?" the pokemon asked, perplexed, and flew past her towards the others still sleeping on the forest floor. "I am Celebi. I was told to save you, so I did."

"Drifter?" Serena reacted, but soon realized that this must be the name of the man who confronted Ash with the Dragonite. Who else could it be? He was the with them all when the attack on the castle occurred, and seemed imbued with an odd alienness as though he did not belong in their world. Still, Serena found herself asking, "Who is he? Drifter?"

Celebi only shrugged, backflipping through the air and releasing a bright powder over the remaining unconscious bodies. They began to stir.

"I always thought he was a human," Celebi explained, returning to Serena's side, "he is very old for a human though. I think he is a prophet."

"A prophet?"

"Oh yes," Celebi smiled, "to Solgaleo."

"Prophets don't exist anymore," Clemont grunted, coming in to consciousness, already mulling over the conversation he's overheard in his half-sleep state, "and most people believe they were just myths,"

"Well," Celebi giggled, "I can tell you two things: they very much still exist, and they were never only myths. Though, I will say there are never more than two for a generation, and even then, sometimes there will be none for many hundreds of years."

Clemont found his glasses and put them on. He jumped up to his feet at the sight of Celebi and then froze in shock. "Uh, Serena? What are you doing talking to a legendary?"

"What's a prophet?" Serena asked. This all sounded too absurd, but that man, Drifter, had spoken to Ash with familiarity. He knew more than everyone here and Serena pinned him as this key she had to find and test on many locks.

What was happening? Her heart could not bear to let Ash disappear for another five years to build upon the secrets that had already brought her tremendous pain. As much as she wanted to forget—to run away from everything that had just occurred—Serena could not forget Ash's eyes. He had looked at her. He had looked at her, for a moment, the way he used too. She could see his stare every time she closed her eyes. His new face was branded on to the back of her brain.

"A prophet is a trainer, who has been selected by a Creation Legendary, in order to serve as an intermediary with humanity and the pokemon race," Celebi said.

"Isn't the only Creation Legendary, Arceus?" Clemont muttered, unsure of what was happening, or why they were discussing it, but still feeling the need to be fed intellectually.

"No," Celebi smiled, but began to grow impatient while the others awoke more slowly, "we need to move. Even here we won't be safe for long."

Serena moved over to Bonnie, making sure the younger girl was alright. She helped the twelve-year old up on to her feet, but it was evident Bonnie was still dazed. Serena brushed away strands of the girl's pale hair out of her face before searching her eyes, embracing her.

"Are you okay?" Bonnie asked, but she sounded distant. No doubt the experience had traumatized her. The bodies of pokemon and humans had been littered all over the floor like pieced of debris.

"Shh, I'll be fine," Serena assured, gently kissing her forehead, "don't worry about me. I need you to be strong. I think we're a long way from home,"

Bonnie nodded, her memories began to form tears.

"Where are we, then?" Kaleb asked, watching the two beside Brock, who was silent as stone.

Gary huffed. "We're in the Ilex forest,"

Celebi looked at him, amused.

"And how do _you_ know that?" Clemont grumbled, pulling twigs out of his hair.

Gary shrugged. "Pops dragged me out here a lot when he had to do research…see those blossoms—" Gary nodded over to the white blossoms, speckled with gold dots, on the trees, "—those are gold berry blossoms, and they only grow in Johto."

"How did in the world did we get to Johto?" Clemont exclaimed, snapping his head in every direction to observe the newly identified surroundings.

Serena heard Brock shift. He got up from the floor and shook the grass and dirt from his hair. His dark eyes glanced at Serena, and she looked away, not wanting him to her read anymore than he already could. She felt guilty. Serena had grown angry by Brock's presence in a subconscious, and unintentional way. Her mind associated everything that was happening, with Brock. She hated that he had continued looking for Ash. She hated that he had come to Glorio. She hated that he had come looking for her.

"There was," Brock began with a sigh, "something told me to grab this pokeball that had appeared on my belt…" He turned to Celebi. "Was that you?"

"I was the pokemon, not the voice," Celebi giggled, as though she held all the answers but could not give them quite yet, "I brought you here, so that we could find those who can help you. Now hurry, before it all gets dark."

* * *

Drifter had returned his Dragonite. The pokemon suffered a critical hit to the left wing and it crashed among the rocks of Helms Isle. Drifter, though scathed by the fall, could not let the Dragonite die, so he called for its retreat and began using the night to hide among the rocks by the sea. In the dark, he heard the waves crashing beneath his feet, his ankles deep in cool salt-water, as he crouched behind a black boulder. Drifter tried to pace his breathing, exhaling whenever a wave burst upon the rock, so as not to be heard by his pursuer, who was still flying overhead.

The Charizard roared.

Drifter shivered with fear, but kept his ground. He clutched his arm, which was bleeding from a deep gash just below the shoulder, and leaned upon the rock for support. He prayed to Solgaleo, praying for covering and protection. He knew he could not die here, but he didn't believe it. His faith grew faint.

A hundred feet away, Drifter heard the dragon land. He heard it being returned and then all he could hear was the ocean. Salt filled his nostrils. The humidity clung to his hair and clothes and the air stung his wound. He gritted his teeth in pain at the discomfort, but did not make a sound.

Between the sound of crashing waves, Drifter heard footsteps. He could not tell in which direction they were going.

"How did you know," asked a voice, dark with no light intent. But Drifter listened. The voice was cracking, though no one could hear without knowing the voice. "How did you know who she was?"

Drifter closed his eyes. He leaned his head back upon the rock and let out a pained whimper. He wanted to respond. He wanted to reach out and shake the boy back to his senses.

 _Speak to him_ …

The old prophet began to cry. He could feel the hot tears roll down his cheek and disappear in to his beard. At that moment, his fate had been revealed to him.

"You were the chosen one," Drifter shouted above the waves, coming out from behind his boulder; a silhouette behind the glistening waves. "You were to succeed me; don't you see? It is why Lunala pursued you…corrupted you—,"

"I am not the corrupted one!" Ash cried, but his voice wavered. He had drawn his sword again and its glow illuminated Drifter's shadow on the rocks, "I'm saving her life!"

"And you are destroying everyone's in the process," Drifter limped closer, streams of blood flowing down his arm. He grew faint. "Lunala knew you would be chosen to be after me. He knew you were the strongest; the purest of heart. And he came after you the only way he knew how."

"Stop it; shut up!" Ash pointed his blue sword at the old prophet, still limping his way, "You're a liar. I wasn't strong until Lunala lent me his power."

Drifter ignored the threat of the blade. He continued walking towards its blue light. "Lunala used her. He used your love for her. He used your fear of hurting her. He's tricked you…in to destroying her anyway…you're nothing but a pawn."

"I swear, I will kill you," Ash pointed the blade to Drifter's throat. The old man stopped at the tip of its edge.

The old prophet felt blood trickled from the sword's point down his neck. "There's still time. Your friends…they were all together…they're still looking for you. Don't you see that Lunala is using you to kill them? To kill everything and for what? Dominion over what can never have? He is _destined_ to lose. He'd dragging you down with him."

"I am a pokemon master because of him," Ash muttered, his eyes shaking in the blue light.

"And what has that gotten you?" Drifter whispered, "Tell me, was it worth sacrificing all the love in the world? Was it worth sacrificing the one you felt unworthy of? Was it worth your freedom to return to her?"

"He's promised not to hurt her," Ash's lips began to quiver, "if I help him, he's promised not to hurt any of them. That's why I can't be free."

Drifter began to understand. Ash had given his soul to Lunala not only to become worthy of love, but to protect love; a love that he was doomed to lose.

Drifter bowed and shook his head. "Please…don't choose the fate your father suffered because of a lie."

Ash's face darkened. It reverted to that cold, dead stone of a soulless body. With one quiet lunge, Ash grabbed Drifter by the shoulder and buried his sword in to the old man's flesh.

"That will be impossible now," Ash whispered in to Drifter's ear as the prophet began to choke. "How can I suffer my father's fate, when the one who killed him is dying beneath my blade?"

Ash slid his sword out of Drifter's chest, and kicked the old man's body to the floor.

And then there was a brilliant flash of light.

 _xxxxx_

"Why are you scared, Serena? You're going to do great!" a young Ash exclaimed, encouraging the girl standing before him.

He watched Serena bite her lip, still unsure about the showcase at hand. She would need to win in order to enter the Master's, but he wasn't worried. She had trained hard. She knew what she was capable of. But the past was still ingrained in her mind. Past failures never disappeared easily from a memory, Ash knew that better than anyone.

Unsure of how else to calm her, Ash took Serena by the hand. They still had some time before the finals began, but not much. He led her farther backstage, back in to her dressing room, where they could be alone. He took her by both hands now and smiled, nervous. He told her she looked stunning, and touched her gold hair, adorned with flowers and jewels. He told her that she was beautiful, playing with the ribbon above her chest, the one he'd given her.

"You know I'll be here," he said, pulling her closer in to him now; his hands moving to her waist and his forehead pressed up against hers. They both felt blush dust their cheeks. "I'll still be here whether you win or lose. I'll be here no matter what. You know that, right?"

As a response, Serena brought his lips down to hers. She kissed him deeply, as though she needed to feel his promise as much as hear it. He liquefied underneath the sensation, his face flushing and his stomach turning to stone, weighing heavily at the bottom of his gut. He pressed in to her, harder, wanting to create the impression of his promise on to her lips. He wanted to brand it on to her heart.

Serena gasped, pulling away. She smiled and it was beautiful. It was perfect.

Ash was still breathing hard, but he smiled back. He smiled back but felt a wave of panic sear through him.

He heard the announcer call for the finalists to come backstage, but it sounded distant. He felt his world begin to spin. He felt Serena press her mouth on to his one last time before leaving the dressing room. He felt himself grow cold when she let go of him.

 _xxxxx_

Ash woke up.

He was lying on the floor. It was still dark. The ocean continued to crash against the rocks.

Ash sat up.

His sword was glowing a few feet away from his body. He scrambled on to his feet and ran towards the weapon, grasping it. He turned back to where he'd killed the old prophet—seconds, minutes, hours?—before and froze.

The body was gone.

* * *

 _Loved the reviews last time. Thanks so much for the encouragement! And I love hearing you all guess what's going to happen. It's great :) Keep reviewing, I appreciate them! Til next time!_


	9. Chapter 8

_**Chapter 8**_

 _Sorry for being MIA! I was on vacation. :) But anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please R &R_

* * *

Ash had flown across the region, to the highest mountain on Kalos, to the blackest rock on the cliffs. He flew with tremendous speed, towards the castle that could not be reached by anyone who did not know the way, and he knew the way well.

All he could think about were Drifter's words, Serena's face, the body missing…he couldn't believe it. After four years of dealing with that old man, Ash could not undo him.

Ash pushed Charizard harder and it roared, flapping its wings, ripping apart the clouds. Below them were dark storms all across Kalos. Lunala was at work, and his first victims were chosen. Ash had to make sure his master would keep his promise.

The Cliffs filled with snow all year round. The area was scarce of pokemon and men, save for the army of both Lunala kept within the innards of the mountain. There were trainers and pokemon without souls, both sworn to the Moon, fidelity binding them to the war at hand. Lunala did not want to rule the night alone, but the day as well. Ash knew that it would begin with Kalos. It was always going to begin with Kalos.

"Lunala!" Upon landing on a fifty-foot platform made of polished black granite jutting out of the mountainside, Ash jumped off the Charizard, its fire steaming in the frozen air. He marched up to the set of doors, ones nearly reaching the peak of the rock, and they opened before him in to a vast, black tomb of space. A dark sigh of air gasped out the mountain and met his skin in a low, dismal heat.

Ash shuddered. He stepped in to the mountain. His footsteps echoed on the polished onyx floors. Small orbs of icy blue light, like fireflies, floated within the empty space as they wandered aimlessly through the dead air, illuminating the room in their endless search for nothing. Besides their faint and limited glow, the palace was pitch black. Ash couldn't see more than ten paces in front of him—even less when the orbs were far off. Ash used to wonder what the orbs were; whether they were alive or what purpose they served. He stopped wondering a long time ago.

"Lunala!" Ash shouted again, stopping in what he felt was the center of the mountain. He imagined himself standing right beneath the peak. "Lunala, answer me!"

The mountain began to rumble. The rock shook beneath Ash's feet and thundering, like the sound of a thousands souls groaning all at once, echoing off the walls of the graves, bellowed from beyond the deep. The orbs began to vanish. One by one, their light went out. Ash began to feel the frost born from his sweat, freeze on to the tips of his hair. He began to feel cold. He began to feel afraid.

 _How dare you_ …

A voice hissed from the dark. Ash could feel the weight of the night press down on him from the air, growing closer like a dagger to his heart. He began to feel faint. He feel to his knees.

 _How dare_ you _summon_ me _…do you forget your master so easily?_

Ash panted. He could hear his sweat his hit the floor and echo between the rumbling of the black presence drawing towards him. "I'm—I'm sorry," Ash mumbled, his chest beginning to burn from a mark he had been branded with long ago. He could feel the searing of a dagger, glowing with fire, being twisted in to his flesh. He cried out in pain. "I killed him! Drifter is dead!"

The pain ceased. The rumbling ceased. The mountain grew silent.

All Ash could hear now was his breathing, labored by the pain and fear. He rolled over on to his stomach, clawing at the floor for no reason in particular. He thought of Serena.

 _You did well…_

The voice whispered, sounding pleased and even amused. Ash could feel Lunala circling him in the dark, though he could not see. He could only imagine a great big blackness, walking slowly about the dark with its hands behind its back, grinning.

 _But why have you returned? You know you're purpose._

Ash grunted. He felt, with his fingertips, the raised flesh on his chest; the scar that bound him to the dark. The oath that sealed his fate.

"She was there…She was there when we attacked—they all were and they were hurt! _We_ hurt them!" Ash growled, stumbling to his feet, "You promised—,"

 _You ignorant bastard!_

The mountain shook with the sound of a thousand roars. Ash fell back to the floor, forced there by a large hand pressing his body in to the ground, pushing against the scar and igniting the fire of its pain. Ash screamed.

 _You think I have time to worry about these things? Was she hurt? Tell me, did_ I _kill her? You worthless maggot. I did not touch her did I? I put_ you _in charge of my legions, and it was_ you _who led the attack._

Hot tears flew from his eyes as the pain continued to writhe through his body. Ash began to seize. His body shook and his mind began to grow numb.

Then the pain stopped. The hand was lifted from Ash's chest and he lied there on the floor, in the dark, motionless. Again the rocks were silent save for the sound of his jagged breath, unsteady and dimmed by death.

 _You know I don't like to punish you._

The voice spoke, sounding more tender, though laced with a dark pleasure.

 _But you see; you are weak. You have no control. You can't even protect her. You're pathetic without me._

Ash was silent. He didn't know if his eyes were open or closed. He could feel his body. It was all cold.

 _I made you what you are. You power is mine! Question me again and I'll make sure you suffer. Treachery will null whatever I've promised. Doubt me again, and I will make sure she dies._

Again, the hand came down on Ash's chest. The pain shocked its way throughout his body, searing his flesh from the inside. Ash didn't scream. He didn't make a sound. He thought of the day he first began to love her.

Then he fainted.

 _xxxxx_

Serena was following close behind Celebi when she began to feel an intense burning kindle upon her chest. She doubled over in pain. Pikachu jumped out of her arms and looked up at her in panic. Bonnie and Gary ran to her side.

"What's going on!?" Gary exclaimed, watching the scene while Bonnie took hold of Serena to support her.

Serena began to feel a numbing sensation overtake her skin, but the burning within her kept growing. The voices around her faded and her bright eyes shook. The world became dark and then light and then dark again, as if she were going through a tunnel lit with only small windows of sun flashing through the ceiling.

The memory began with Ash. He was sitting in their room, staring out the window over the coliseum where the Kalos league was being held. He had won for the third season in a row. It hadn't even been difficult.

On the TV, Serena heard the news anchor chatter on and on about his performances. She heard them call him the youngest Pokemon Master to win seven consecutive championships all across the regions. They were saying the perhaps he's be the greatest Pokemon Master to ever live.

Serena had just come from the grocery store, her arms full of ingredients to make pokepuffs and Pikachu humming happily on her shoulder. She put the food on the table and walked over to Ash, wrapping her arms around his neck.

She kissed his cheek, but he was cold.

"Hey," she said, and felt the frost move in to her heart as his eyes stayed dead, looking far off in to space. "Do you want to go to the park today? Clemont said he wants to go see—,"

"I have to train," Ash said, but didn't look at her. He hardly looked at her anymore.

Serena stiffened. She let go of him and froze while anger and panic consumed her. At this point she knew she was losing him, but to what she did not know. She didn't know what was going on. He was changing so rapidly, she felt as though she could never catch up. Each day he woke up a different person. He grew more withdrawn, unresponsive, obsessive…he hardly kissed her anymore. Every time he looked at her, all she saw was fear. Raw fear, so clear to her and she didn't know what was causing it or how to make it go away.

"Ash, talk to me," She demanded, moving in front of the window. She was getting tired now, but she kept trying, "Ash, please. What's going on?"

"Stop it," he said, avoiding her eyes. "I have to go. I have to go train,"'

Serena stared at him. He continued to ignore her, staring down at the stadium, his fingers drumming against his chair. He did this for ten minutes.

"Okay," Serena stood up, pushing against his shoulder's roughly, and stormed out of the room.

She tried to hold back her tears. She tried to hold back Ash. He was plunging in to a path she couldn't follow. At some point, she knew, she would have to let him go.

 _xxxxx_

The next memory was of the first nights without him. Serena broke through floors, breaking apart the earth, falling through each level without end until she came to the core. She expected the heart of the earth to be a violent pit of lava, sloshing and growling with anger. But the core was cold and empty. Not even fire lived inside the depths. Serena made her home in its hollow echoes for months. She couldn't feel, she couldn't eat, she couldn't speak. She could only sleep. There, she could dream of his face, penetrating the cold and bringing feign warmth on to her skin. She grew addicted to her dreams.

 _xxxxx_

 _Serena._

This was a dream, she thought. She couldn't see anything, she couldn't move. She felt a warm breeze, one blowing across the tail end of spring, wash over her. There was a voice, or many voices, calling out to her. She didn't have the strength to pursue them. She stayed still, in a state of relent.

 _xxxxx_

On the third morning, Serena woke up. It was still dawn. She found herself lying in a bed made of wood and straw. She shot up from it, and grew dizzy from the sudden movement. After her vision began to clear again, she noticed light filtering in from a window. She was in a small cabin; Bonnie slept on a bed just to her left.

"You've awoken,"

Serena looked at the door. It was the man with the Dragonite—the one who'd fought Ash in the sky. He stood at the entrance, watching her. He looked different, yet recognizable. His hair was the color of snow, and his face was clean shaven and younger than she remembered. He looked to be only a few years older than herself.

"Who are you?"

"Many here know me as Drifter," he said. He stepped towards her, his bright eyes studying her as one studies a coded message. "I am a prophet for the Legendary Solgaleo. I have known many lives, as I have been sent on many missions in order to prophesize against the coming darkness. And whether you believe me or not, I tried to save Ash, not kill him."

Serena watched him. Her eyes wavering under his intense gaze. She felt exposed, so she pulled the sheets of the bed around her body.

"Where is he?"

Drifter drew chair up close to her bed and sat down. He folded his arms in front of his chest upon adjusting the bright red sash cutting across his white vest. Everything about him looked bright. Serena found herself squinting to adjust to the light blazing from his figure.

"You have asked the wrong question," Drifter said, "I don't know where Ash Ketchum is. But I do know that he is in grave danger of being lost forever."

Serena stopped. "I don't understand—,"

"Then I will explain, because it is time you know what happened to him," Drifter offered and cleared his throat. "Ash sold his soul to Lunala, King of Darkness—a fallen legendary from ancient times. Back in the days of old there was a trinity of legendries that created the universe. All other legendries were born from them. The trio was Arceus, emissary of the stars and the universe, Lunala, emissary of the moon and death, and Solgaleo, emissary of the sun and life. However, Lunala wanted more than just the moonlight and thus attempted to take over the firmament. This created an imbalance of power. Death wreaked havoc and the sun was blocked out by the endless night when Lunala came in to the world. He possessed humans and pokemon; he built up an army of those who sold their souls to the darkness for love, money, power. Solgaleo and Arceus felt the imbalance of power shift, and they created the legendries Dialga, Palkia, and Giratina—or what some call, the Creation Trio—in order to wipe out the earth of all mankind and pokemon, for all had turned to worship the moon. Every human was destroyed, except one. His name was Kalos. Kalos and his family were spared, for they did not sell their souls to Lunala, and Solgaleo bestowed mercy upon them. He told Kalos to take his family and his pokemon and to hide in the Mountain Retlar—an ancient mountain that could be found at the center of the earth.

"The Creation Trio flooded the earth. They killed Lunala's army, and wiped the world clean of the dark souls. Beneath the water, the regions divided, thus is the world today. Kalos bore many sons: Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, Unova, Sinnoh, Kalos. His only daughter, he called Alola. These are the names of the regions today; and the Redemption era began."

Drifter paused, watching Serena absorb the information he just explained, not expected her to believe it in full. He knew she was wondering what the history of the world had to do with her beloved. Soon, she would know the answer.

"Lunala was not destroyed," Drifter continued, "he can't be. He cannot be destroyed lest the universe fall in to pieces, for all things need the moon as much as the sun and stars. Solgaleo and Arceus could only exile him. His entity no longer lives in the heavens, but on the earth. The legendries all agreed that this must happen in order for the prophecy to be fulfilled:

 _He will walk the earth and lure new souls in to his mouth_

 _He will build up an army of darkness_

 _He will put death upon the firmament_

 _He will see the face of the sun and declare war anew_

 _He will choose a servant from the light."_

Drifter again stopped to be sure Serena followed, for what was next was of the utmost importance. "Serena, Ash is the chosen servant from the light. Because his heart was the purest, when it fell it became the darkest. He is meant to be my successor. He is a prophet, but as of right now prophesizes for the dark. That is why he must be redeemed or else all is lost."

Serena shivered under the sheets around her shoulders. She could feel a light burning run across her chest. Her fingers found the edge of the bed and squeezed.

"How did he fall?" she asked but did not want to know the answer.

"He grew afraid," Drifter said. For a moment he paused, unsure whether or not to elaborate, but the girl's eyes were so full of hunger for truth. She had loved Ash; she needed to know the truth or else she could not help bring him back.

"He grew afraid of disappointing his father; he grew afraid of failure; he grew afraid of losing you—the reasons fed his fear. So when Lunala, who had always been watching him, knowing he was the chosen one of light, waited for the moment him to fall in love with you to begin growing his fear as one would grow a weed of thorns. Lunala fed him lies until he confronted the boy upon the eve of his Championship battle. Lunala promised victory in all battles, the power of pokemon master, all for the price of Ash's soul, which he sold blindly—not knowing what it would drive him to lose."

 _xxxxx_

Serena had sat in shock. She analyzed every word. Every detail. And still didn't understand. It made sense to her. When she looked back and remembered the times when Ash had begun to change—his nightmares, the voices he heard…how could he not tell her?

"Don't tell me this," Serena whispered, her face turning away from Drifter as she began to lose all energy. Her heart was breaking again. Perhaps he never loved her. He chose power over her—she couldn't satisfy him. Not even when she gave herself completely to him. He chose to leave. He chose to sell his soul—or whatever—to Lunala. Why would he do that if he loved her?

"He never loved me," Serena said and began to weep. Her worst fears coming true. Not only was the old Ash gone forever, but he never loved her. "Don't tell me. It all doesn't matter now."

Drifter watched her cry, shocked. What had he said that had led her to such a conclusion? He wanted to reach out and shake the girl back to her senses, but the Spirit of Solgaleo told him not to. He told Drift to stay quiet and let her weep the grief away. Soon, he would be able to comfort her.

"There will be time for tears," Drifter said, his voice caressing the air to calm around her, "things are not what they seem to be. Have faith. You and your friends have been chosen."

Serena looked up. Her cheeks still drowning. "Chosen?"

Drifter nodded. "Look at your heart."

The young woman looked down at her chest. There, on the left side, was a small triangle carved in to her skin. It was white and glowing faintly. She traced a finger across the raised flesh, and flinched at the weak burning crossing her breastplate. She gasped.

"You are a Lightbearer. Solgaleo has chosen you for His army. You are on the winning side."


	10. Chapter 9

_**Chapter 9**_

 _Hope you all enjoyed the last chapter. This chapter much is explained, but there will still be questions I'm sure. Again, everything will tie up in the end. But as for now, we move forward. And as some encouragement for you all, because I know you are dying to see Ash and Serena reunite...you do not have to wait much longer...but it's not all going to be chocolate and roses, so be prepared. ;)_

* * *

It still seemed like yesterday that they had arrived at the camp of the Pure Hearted. At first, Brock had been skeptical about the secret base concealed within the Johto forest. He had not trusted the soldiers in white, with their red sashes and gold badges. The army had seemed overly welcoming, and attentive to the fainted woman Brock carried in his arms.

They had entered a large, entrance opening from within a great wall made of stained mahogany surrounding the encampment. Inside there were many barracks and cabins built around the large trees still consuming the grounds, claiming it for the sacred forest despite there being such a human presence. It was a symbiotic relationship between man and wood. The men only used what they needed, giving back to the earth through their pokemon, rain and sunlight and growth. In return the trees sheltered the camp, hiding it within its green bosom so as not to expose it to the wind, which grew darker from west and could not be trusted.

Drifter had been the first to greet them in to the camp, and he led them to a large banquet hall built out of glossed rosewood. He took Serena from Brock's embrace with as one would lift a feather. He told them to go ahead and eat at the table made up of berries, meats, and cheese while he placed Serena in a separate room.

He then had met them back in the dining to tell them of their purposes for being at the camp. Brock remembered it all as clear as day. The fall of mankind, the restoration, and the preeminent redemption…along with Ash's fall in to darkness. It all sounded surreal. Even now.

Brock looked down his white shirt at the white triangle above his heart. For two weeks now he and the others had been staying with the LIghtbearers, regaining their strength, but also training their pokemon every now and then. Everyone was saying that a war was coming, but Brock still didn't know whether or not to believe them. He knew, though, that soon, the Lightbearers would be expecting him and the others to train as soldiers for their army. Brock watched the way the trainers here and they were more than strong. Some could no doubt take on the Pokemon league and win if they wished, but all seemed devoted to their cause.

"Was Ash supposed to be a Lightbearer?" Brock asked Drifter one night, as they sat together by the fire with Gary and Clemont, the last ones awake.

Drifter shook his head. "He was supposed to be a prophet. He was supposed to take my place. He is chosen to lead this army."

"Well, I guess that won't be happening," Gary stared in to the fire and let the ember burn within the reflection of his eyes. He had been acting strange for many days, and Brock didn't have time for it.

"The prophecy is never wrong," Drifter said,

" _Where can one go to hide from the Sun?_

 _There is no place for one to go_

 _He cannot hide._

 _What the Sun has chosen, let no one steal_

 _Not even the darkness can hide him;_

 _Redemption comes to all the elect_

 _And the Sun will take back the stolen_

 _And the Sun will take back the fallen_

 _He will take back the night."_

Brock didn't respond. Gary rolled his eyes, but Drifter seemed lost within intense thought. He kept staring at the stars. Brock studied this strange man, who kept changing in appearance and demeanor upon each encounter. He seemed imbedded with an inner light now, one that was not there before. He vanished and came at will. He carried no pokemon, but could summon one upon command; they obeyed him with reverence and caution.

After the strange conversation, and Drifter had left them, Gary went off. "That man is crazy—everyone here is crazy. Ash has become the strongest pokemon trainer in history and no one is interested in _how_. The only way we're going to bring him down is by playing his game. We need to train and get whatever he's got in order to face him properly."

"We're not trying to kill him Gary," Brock said, clenching his fists so as not to pounce on the arrogant trainer, "If Drifter thinks there's a way to save Ash, then we have to try."

"Ash _chose_ this!"

"And you're trying to choose the same damn thing! Don't you see?!" Brock roared, grabbing Gary by the collar. "You're being stupid, Gary. It could've been any of us."

"Let him go, Brock," Clemont said, pulling Brock away by the shoulders, "we can't turn against each other now. Lunala would want that—,"

"Listen to yourself," Gary snorted, "you sound just as crazy as everyone here."

Clemont shot Gary as fiery glare. "Well, what's keeping you here then, huh? Don't pretend like we don't know."

Gary stormed out of the cabin, slamming the door.

 _xxxxx_

Serena was with Bonnie, Kaleb, and Pikachu, watching the Lightbearers train in one of the fields just outside of the fenced camp. The soldiers used many clearings in the forest to train, but did their best not to disturb the habitat. All of them were very courteous, and allowed the girls and Kaleb to watch, and even join, if ever they wanted to.

Pikachu watched the battles with intense curiosity from Serena's lap, and Kaleb had difficulty tearing his eyes away from the training as well. The Lightbearers were incredibly quick in their abilities. They mimicked the moves of their pokemon at times, as if both trainer and pokemon were in sync. Not only were the pokemon more agile and intelligent than most, but they could mega evolve without stones, and wherever they moved, beams of light seemed to follow. At times, Serena couldn't keep up with the matches for they were too bright from the glow emitting from the pokemon and trainers alike.

"What is it that they fight with?" Kaleb asked.

"The light of the Sun, of course," Drifter smiled at the shocked expressions caused by his sudden appearance.

" _How_ do you keep doing that?" Bonnie muttered and scratched the side of her head.

Drifter took a seat next to Serena and rubbed Pikachu's head. He seemed much less sullen than when she had first met him, and continually regarded him with suspicion. Serena knew he was an ally, but she also knew that saving Ash wasn't his first priority. His first priority was his duty to the Solgaleo, and Serena did not know for what purposes the pokemon had chosen Ash as its prophet—nor did she know her role in all of this.

As the morning went on, and the shadows grew shorter, a large Pigeot came down from the sky toward the encampment. On the pokemon's back was a man Serena recognized as one of the leading generals of the army, Flynn.

Flynn steered the giant bird down to where the Lightbearers were training and jumped off the creature before it touched the earth. He landed with an enviable grace before Drifter and bowed before speaking:

"Kalos has fallen. The whole region is covered in darkness. We have lost all contact with our scouts spying the province. Every radio, transmitter, navigation system—all communications are blocked."

Bonnie gasped. She ran to go find Clemmont. Serena gave thanks that her mother and father were safe in Hoenn on vacation. But she wished she could contact them somehow, so that she could tell them she was okay. She then began to weep. She knew too many people from home to not be grieved with worry. She stood up and looked at Drifter.

"We're going to do something, right? We can't just let everyone in Kalos die!" Serena looked over her shoulder to see Bonnie returning with Clemont and Brock. Kaleb close behind.

"What are we going to do—our parents are down there. Our _family._ Our _lives_." Clemont's eyes were hidden behind the glare of his glasses, but Serena had never seen him so unnerved.

Drifter looked at them with an ethereal calm. He imbued peace, as though it were one with his blood, and Serena grew even more alarmed by his lack of reaction.

"We wait," said the prophet.

"We _wait_?" Clemont whispered, fire spitting out of his tongue, a venomous bite twisted beneath his tone. "No…no, we can't _wait_."

"We could go, my lord," Flynn said, his hand upon his chest, "I could lead the first attack. We have grown strong. You have the most powerful trainers and pokemon at your disposal. Surely, now must be the moment to perform our duties."

"No," Drifter said, shocking even the general, "for the attack would not honor the prophecy. If we attack now, the prophecy will not be fulfilled and all will be lost. Lunala is still at the peak of his power. He must first must fall."

"Shouldn't we be the first to cause him to fall?" Clemont challenged, "Isn't what this stupid army is for? To fight Lunala?"

Drifter stood up, and all became aware of his grand stature and height. "This army was created for redemption, not for death. We fight to restore."

 _xxxxx_

At night, when the camp slept, Serena went out in to the forest for air. She could not sleep. Her heart kept racing from the nightmares she dreamed of Ash. She kept seeing his black eyes, his red sword, his monstrous dragon. She kept seeing him grinning at the sight of death, leading that dark army in to homes of Kalosian families, so innocent and unaware. She would dream of him as the boy she knew, with his eyes light again like amber; the boy who loved his pokemon more than his own life; the boy who would be her support, her courage—the boy she admired. The boy she loved.

She would always know the way his lips felt against her fingers; he always kissed them before pulling her hand on to his heart, and she would feel the pulse beat beneath his dark shirt. She could feel, even now, the heat of his breath in her hair beyond the chill of the night. She sighed and twirled a lock of her hair, watching the color pale underneath the skin of moonlight.

She did not know if she could see him again. She couldn't. She was breaking all over again, and another look from his onyx eyes would kill her. She would remember how it had all been a lie. He never loved her, he couldn't have. He didn't choose her…

"Serena,"

Drifter's voice came out of the dark and jolted her out of her thoughts. She blushed, as if she had been caught yearning for something she shouldn't have.

"I couldn't sleep,"

"Nor I," he said, and offered her a kind smile. He stood next to her and together they watched the night in silence. Drifter lost in his thoughts, and Serena hesitant to relax around the strange man. She didn't know how to feel about him. He acted like a father-figure, but looked as though he could be an older brother. He spoke as though he'd lived ages, and revealed little to no emotion of which to inform anyone of his thoughts. He hid behind the light he bore.

"It used to be easy for me to reveal worry and panic," Drifter said, as though reading her thoughts. He looked at her surprised expression from the corner of his eye and smiled. "And just because I do not reveal it now, does not mean I do not feel such things. I do. They are within the deepest recesses of my heart. My Spirit now knows that I should not be troubled, but my heart cannot help but feel such things. I am worried. I do doubt. But I have faith."

Serena said nothing for a long while. She let his words float in to the night air and dissipate before the pale light gleaming down from the thick, silhouetted trees. A breeze ruffled the leaves, black against this night, and the branches around them began to moan. She didn't know how to react to the man's honesty. She continued to knot her thick hair around her finger, and she waited.

Somehow, beyond them, they heard a Hoothoot.

"I know you are a Prophet," Serena began, unsure of where she was going, staring at the darkness of the floor, "but I don't understand why Solgaleo—if he is so powerful—why doesn't he just destroy Lunala. Isn't Solgaleo going to save Ash if he is to be the new Prophet?"

Drifter took a long breath, allowing the cold air to fill within his chest. "Yes, it was written that Ash was to be a Prophet for Solgaleo, but it is also written that he would fall—but he is still destined." Drifter paused, as though unsure of what to admit, "I cannot tell you what Solgaleo's purpose for the young man is…I just know that the Pokemon has many plans that are not even revealed to me. That is why I cannot help, but doubt at times. But I do know that the Moon cannot be destroyed lest there be an imbalance of power and chaos. Mankind would be wiped out if such a thing were to happen, for man needs the Moon as much as it needs the Sun.

"As for Ash," Drifter said, and looked at her with the tenderness only concern can render, "I do not know his purpose in this. I know he is to be restored, but restored in to what, I do not know. He will not be the same as when he was lost. I don't know who he will be…"

"Did you know him?" Serena asked, confused by the despondency lingering in his voice.

"Yes," Drifter said, "he is just like his father. I tried to save them both, back when I believed I could undo what was written. It was very foolish of me. No one can save anyone. It is the choice of the individual that renders them free, or a slave. I was once both, and am now the two together."

Drifter smiled, knowing he had completely lost the young woman in riddles. "You will see what I mean. But I was once as lost as Ash is now. It can happen to anyone. All of us are afraid of something."

Serena met the strange man's gaze. "What are you afraid of?"

Drifter was not sure how to answer. He could not tell her that he was dead. He only lived as a Spirit now, because his duty to Solgaleo was not yet been complete. Living outside of death and life, he could not say he feared anything for himself, but rather he feared for the girl before him. He feared for Ash. He knew the Sun would win. And that all would be restored. He just did not know how.

 _xxxxx_

Gary could only watch while the other began their training with the Lightbearers. He had not told anyone, but his chest had stayed unmarked. As a response, he feigned disdain towards the army and the war. He continued to sink in his unbelief. There was no sign or triangle above his heart. At first this didn't bother him, but the small detail inhibited from him accessing the evolution abilities the Lightbearers possessed. That drove him crazy. He wanted that power. He wanted to go up against Ash and win. However, if he could not access such abilities from this side, then what other options did he have? He wanted to leave this godforsaken camp.

And yet he stayed.

"Watch out!" someone shouted as a stray attack went straight for the wooden bench, on which Gary had been watching his friends train.

He ducked and let the thunderbolt from Clemont's Luxray go over his head, hitting a nearby tree. Gary turned to the apologetic gym leader, who was still having trouble assess the power of his mega abilities. The electricity from his Pokemon held more voltage and heat than Clemont was used to.

"Sorry about that!" Clemont muttered, scratching the back of his head. "I misjudged the ricochet."

"Try not to hit the trees," Bonnie groaned, knowing that Celebi wouldn't be happy at them disturbing the forest.

Nearby, Brock was training his Onyx. He was up against a Lightbearer and his Mightyena, and doing rather poorly despite his advantage.

"Stay in sync. Move with your pokemon," the instructor was saying, but Brock was anything but graceful—and Gary couldn't help but enjoy watching him struggle.

Gary sighed. He felt a little lost. Like everyone else he had been hoping for Ash to show up again, but he never expected it to be like this. He felt disloyal for giving up on his best friend…even more so now…but he felt betrayed. Ash left without a word—to pursue some power, a power that helped him win all championships—and he had kept it all a secret. He hated Ash for that. Ash had lied straight to his face. Gary remembers confronting Ash about his sudden, and immense victory streak. He had asked him if he was getting help in some way.

Ash said no.

Gary's fist clenched at the memory. He stared at the worn forest floor, the grass now turning to dirt from usage.

"Hey," Gary heard a soft voice say, just behind him.

He turned around and watched Serena find a seat next to him. He looked away, hating the way he reacted to her. Hating that she was the reason he stayed. He grunted a response and went back to fixing his gaze on the dirt, counting the rocks on the floor.

Pikachu, who had been playing with Dedenne around the training the field, began running up to Serena as soon as he spotted her. He jumped in to her arms, rubbing one of its red cheeks against hers. She smiled and rubbed the fur between Pikachu's ears. The yellow Pokemon then jumped back on to the floor to continue chasing Dedenne.

Serena watched him go, and let Pancham, Delphox, and Sylveon out to join the fun.

"Are you training today?" Gary asked, knowing that she had been avoiding the intense instructional sessions the Lightbearers had been giving to their newest recruits. She was not one to enjoy battling pokemon—she never had been—but out of all the others, mega evolution came easiest to her.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you going to ever train with us?" Serena asked him, without judgment or pretense, her tone innocent of anything malicious. Gary wondered if she even had it in her to be mean.

"No,"

Serena studied him, her mind working towards a puzzle, unaware of the intensity in which she thought. Gary grew self-conscious, feeling as though he were being read better by her than anyone else, and he kept his brows furrowed in order to exaggerate the severity of his countenance.

"What?"

Serena shrugged, relenting. She relaxed and turned back to face the field. "I suppose there's a reason for you not wanting to train. I just don't know what it is yet."

"I don't trust them,"

"That's not it," the young woman said, smiling with satisfaction upon seeing the surprise in his face. "But you don't have to tell me. We all have our secrets."

Gary then suddenly wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to confess to not having the sign of the triangle above his heart, he wanted to tell her that hoping for Ash to change was a waste of time. He wanted to tell her he loved her.

"Why don't you train?" Gary asked, trying to change the subject before his emotions could explode upon the face of his heart, "I know you're a coordinator, but you'd make a good trainer if you'd stop being so sensitive."

Serena blinked at him, then looked down at her delicate hands, cupped upon her red skirt. She looked at her pokemon, playing across the clearing, let the wind rush through the conversation, letting it blow far away from her heart.

"I don't want to be the one who hurts him," Serena said; her voice soft enough to be the breeze, or a leaf breaking off from its branch.

Gary didn't get it. "But Ash isn't the same. _He_ hurt _you_ , remember?"

"It takes two people for one to be hurt," Serena said.

"Do you still love him?" Gary had to know.

Serena went still, shocked by the question she had not even dared to ask herself. When she didn't say anything for a long time, Gary stood up and left. The dead leaves kicked up above the grass as he walked away.

 _xxxxx_

 _See, no one loves you. You cannot be loved. Come to me_.

Gary shot up out of bed. He looked down at his hands and found them shaking beneath the darkness. He clenched them to be sure they belonged to him. He swung his legs around the side of his mattress and touched the floor with his feet. It was cold. But he was sweating. He felt the back of his hair and pulled away to find his fingers damp. He rubbed the dampness between his skin and marveled at it as though it were blood.

 _Come to me. I will give you what you seek._

There it was again. The voice that hissed in his dreams. Gary jumped out of his sheets and grabbed his jacket. He treaded the wooden floor with the fragility of glass so as not to awaken the others sleeping nearby. He went out the door.

Outside, the air blew a pleasant chill through the camp. There were no stars tonight, they were covered by thick, bellows of clouds, and not even moonlight could penetrate the fog. Gary felt his feet move one after the other, away from the barracks, out towards the forest, the blackness of night, the stench of death. It thrilled him. He was like those corporeal ghosts without souls, lingering towards something they could not identify apart from their lust for the dark.

"I want what Ash has." Gary fixed his eyes towards the exit. There were always men watching the doors to the camp, and tonight there were three, and tonight Gary was desperate. He reached for his belt and found a pokeball that had not been there before. It was a black orb at his side—so dark he could hardly see it against the depths of the floor. Instinct took over his flesh and he called upon the dark sphere.

An Aerodactyl, large and cloaked in black scales, flew out towards the men guarding their post, using the night as cover, with stealth that sailed beyond than the speed of sound. In the following blink, all of the guards were gone, vanished from sight. The Aerodactyl returned before Gary, bowing to encourage the trainer to move on to its black body. Gary could not refuse. Entranced he felt his fingers go out in to the dark, taking hold of the winged beast, pulling himself on to its back.

In immediate haste, the creature flew off in to the moonless sky.

 _xxxxx_

Drifter had watched Gary go late after midnight. He did not try and stop him. He knew such an attempt would be futile. The young man had made up his mind.

 _Lunala will use him to find our camp_. Drifter said to Solgaleo, and the Spirit stirred within him.

 _Yes, and we must let ourselves be found._


	11. Chapter 10

_**Chapter 10**_

* * *

 _Short chapter, but important. R &R_

* * *

When Serena was a young girl, she didn't know what it meant to love someone well. She was a people pleaser. She would do things all the time for her parents, her friends, teachers, mentors—in order to receive something in return. She gave to be given. She served to be served. She loved to be love back. Her greatest fear was disappointing others. She did not know that this was necessarily bad—in some cases it wasn't—for most appreciated her thoughtful and caring nature, but Serena needed affirmation from other. She did not like tension. She did not like to assert herself in the way of other people, scared of ruining a relationship. But this always came back to bite her. She did not know how to love authentically.

Not until she began to love Ash. Here was a case—a person—to whom she would devote herself only to receive nothing in return. It exhausted her. The first few months of traveling with him had been, in a sense, heartbreaking. She would seek any way to get his attention, to garner his affection—but he never reciprocated. There were times when she would feel taken advantage of. He began to expect things of her, and she felt imprisoned by such expectancies. He would give her clothes to mend, bags to hold, food to cook—but he didn't know what he was doing. Part of it had been her own fault. Serena would go out of her way for him, bending over backwards, and he kept staring at the stars.

Months of this. She remembered breaking. She remembered one night outside on the steps of the pokemon center, overwhelmed by her heart and the showcase at hand. That was the night Ash came out and found her. He smiled at her, asked her what was wrong. She couldn't speak.

He then loved her—in his own way, of course. You're going to do great, he had said, throwing his fist up in the air. You are going to learn; you're going to get better. You'll be inspiring and be inspired.

Serena watched him jump off the steps, Pikachu on his shoulder. He was holding his arms open to the world, as though it were this limitless possibility for him to explore. He laughed and looked at her, his ambers eyes fired up against the streetlights.

That was the moment she decided to love him, unconditionally. She would no longer expect things from him—she no longer expected to be loved back. She just wanted to love this boy, who inspired her, without cause or effect. She would not do it for pleasure; she would not do it for anything in return. She would love him and let him be. And she loved him well.

Three months later, he would kiss her. She would not be expecting it.

 _xxxxx_

Ash had been surprised to see Gary, pounding up towards the mountain with Aerodactyl under his grip. His surprise quickly turned to amusement, however, when Gary's face fell at the sight of him. The auburn-haired trainer had tried to turn his dragon around, his face stricken with a strange remorse. Ash could read the word "no" being uttered over and over again on his old friend's lips. Ash awaited him in the blistering wind, upon the onyx platform before the mountains threatening mouth. He had sensed a presence drawing close.

Before Gary landed, Ash called upon his Charizard, in case his old rival should try anything—though it would be futile. He's come in to a place where he has no power. Part of Ash was deeply distressed. He wished for Gary to turn back with all his might, but Lunala sensed this in him, and hardened Ash's heart in to a dark determination that rendered the man's desires in to wanting to cause Gary harm. Ash grew enraged, but could not fight off the black presence in his soul.

As soon as Gary touched the platform, he was seized by three other trainers, dressed as Ash, whom appeared out of nowhere through the wind. They said nothing; held nothing but anger on their faces. They began to beat the new trainer, and forced him on to the ground, in to chains. One took Gary by the hair and sneered in to his face, causing the trainer to recoil in fear and whimper.

Ash looked away. He could do nothing else.

After they had beaten Gary in to streams of blood and bruised skin, Ash walked up and crouched down to the floor. He looked at Gary, his mouth opening and closing at a loss for words. For a moment he saw his past; the white fence of his backyard, his mom filling the house with the smell of fresh bread, pigeys flying over his head out towards the sea.

Gary spat in his face. "You bastard, I'm going to kill you."

Ash drew back. He wiped the frozen spit from his cheek and began to shake with rage. He jerked Gary's head up by his hair. "You don't even know what it means to die."

The other trainers in black then began to take Gary away, dragging him inside the mountain as he cried out curses towards Ash, ones that condemned him for betraying his friends, for lying to them, for leaving their side. Such convictions would have cut Ash to the core, had they not been coming from a hypocrite.

He asked Lunala, _are you going to kill him_?

 _I will leave that up to you,_ Lunala's hiss penetrated the darkness of Ash's mind, _after he tells us where the Purehearted can be found. We cannot continue until they are dead._

Ash nodded, and followed Gary's screams in to the mouth of the darkness.

* * *

Three days ago, Brock woke up to find Gary gone. He wasn't been surprised. However, when he found the sheets thrown aside and the bed void of life, Brock could not help but weep. He had, in a sense, dragged Gary in to this—knowing that the young man, who in many ways was still a boy, had not been enough to bear the weight of his best friend's betrayal. And Brock had not helped. He lacked much sympathy for Gary, it was true, and Brock felt selfish for acting so single-mindedly towards his cause without any consideration for other whom might be affected by Ash's sudden reappearance. He has been so focused on the fact that Ash was _alive_. He was alive and now tangibly in their grasp, and Brock would not lose him this time. He would do anything he could to get the old Ash back, because Brock still believed that person existed.

Brock placed a hand on the empty pillow. He found the case cool and damp. Then, in a sudden fit of rage, he slammed his fist down in to the cushion and began tearing off the sheets and the blankets. He was in the process of such destruction when Kaleb and Clemont came in to the room. The two younger men went over to pull Brock back from tearing out the feathers of the pillow, from clawing at the comforter and mattress. They were two leaves trying to push back a boulder burying itself in dirt.

"He chose to leave," Clemont reasoned, sweating from the effort of holding Brock back, "you can't save us all."

"That idiot," Brock muttered. He clenched his fists in to the sheets. He began to calm down, and Clemont let go of him, backing away to give his friend space.

"We have an even bigger problem,"

"Not now, Kaleb," Clemont turned to give the younger boy a stern glare.

"I don't think you understand," Kaleb stepped forward. He placed a hand on Brock's shoulder. "We need to tell Drifter. We need to warn the others."

"What are you-,"

"No, he's right," Brock said, interrupting Clemont. He got up from the floor and stood by the bed as still as a stone. Then he lifted his head towards the door.

Outside, numerous shouts shot through the air, and a vibration began rattling the windows, as though a strong wind was picking up outside. Kaleb was the first to run to the glass, watching a dark storm begin to settle over the forest, the trees bending beneath strong gales coming from the west.

"This looks uncomfortably familiar," Kaleb muttered.

"Yup, time to go," Clemont grabbed the young trainer by the shirt, dragging him to follow Brock out the door of the barracks.

Brock shielded his eyes from the dirt and grass being torn from the ground, swirling about the air. He and the others rather blindly made their way to the sounds of distress coming from the center of the camp. Their steps picked up speed at the sound of Bonnie crying out for Dedenne and Kaleb. They found her beside a group of soldiers, their swords of light drawn and pokemon at hand.

"This storm…it is the Dark Army," Flynn said, standing beside a gigantic Pigeot, imbued with light, resting in its ultimate evolution form. "We have been found. Where is Drifter?"

 _xxxxx_

Serena had seen the storm coming out of the trees from her room. Her stomach dropped so quickly that she vomited in a bin resting by the door. She struggled to stand, terrified, praying that she would not see him riding on the dark clouds with his great, black dragon. She suddenly wanted to become nothing but the wind blowing by and disappearing upon the horizon. She wanted to vanish and dissolve like an atom being split from its molecule. She felt her heart dying, contracting in to itself like as it bled from the stress old memories bore. She was not quite reliving the moment he left her, but reliving the moments where he'd look at her and be miles away. Too far for her to follow.

The door opened. Drifter came bounding in to the room, finding her doubled over the pail, still gagging. He bent down to help her up.

"Serena, are you all right to come with me?"

The young woman nodded. She let him lift her up by the arm and was led out in to the windstorm. She could feel her chest begin to burn as the storm drew closer. She clutched her heart and whimpered from the pain.

"I know it hurts, but be strong. It will not be like this forever."

Serena panted, sweat beginning to form on her neck. "Why does it not hurt the others?"

Drifter led her towards the center of camp where the others were gathering. He looked back at her only to make sure that she had not fainted.

"Your connection to the light is not complete. It will remain unfinished until the other half of you has either given up or…" He did not finish; and looked as though he had said too much. "You must be hidden. You cannot fight yet, because of the one who possesses the other half of your spirit holds you back. But the connection goes both ways. You must stay alive."

Serena had lost him. His words sounded like a foreigner's tongue, and she did not have the energy to decipher it. She could only hold on to him for strength, for even that was in fast decline. She wanted to be there, to help her friends, but the larger part of her was relieved that she was being hidden so that she would not have to fight _him_. She knew she would not be able to harm that boy even if she tried.

"Drifter!" Flynn cried out, "Where have you been? How has Lunala located our camp?"

"Well, we might know the answer to that," Kaleb muttered, but went silent under Brock's stare.

"None of that matters, we must be prepared to retreat. You know where to meet. I have told you where to go when this should happen." Drifter looked calm, but Serena could feel the tension in his muscles as he clenched her arm.

"Retreat!?" Flynn's eyes turned violent and he stabbed his bright sword in to the ground. "You're joking. We have an entire army here."

"This is not our entire army,"

"What?" Flynn looked as though he was about to explode.

"Fly to the mountain and you'll see."

Flynn was going to retaliate, but a deafening roar erupted from the forest, followed by a chorus of bestial sounds. The earth began to rattle with heavy stomps. The tree tops began to rustle, something large moving between their branches, breaking their trunks and causing some to fall. Out from the thicket bloomed a fog of darkness; the shadows pregnant with black pokemon, some being ridden by men dressed in black, holding up blades of onyx.

The first wave was a line of Tyrannitars, some as tall as the trees. Their armor was painted black and blue, their eyes were ablaze like red rubies reflecting a flame. In their jaws they began to breath fire, and bellowed out bursts of flames in to the camp.

Everyone scattered. Some took to the skies, following Flynn, and began to attack despite Drifter's orders. The Purehearted then met the Dark Army head on. Serena watched Arcanines, Dragonites, Charizards; pokemon of all kinds race by her, the clash of swords and shouts filled every fiber of the air. She saw Brock draw on his Onyx while Clemont called upon Luxray. Kaleb and Bonnie also joined in, but borrowed a Venasaurs as their own pokemon were not strong enough to hold their own yet.

Drifter knocked Serena to the ground out of a reaction to avoid a hyper beam, which blasted apart an armory behind them, splintering the wood upon its explosive collision. Serena looked up from the floor, her hair already tainted by dust and dirt, her pale face flushed with adrenaline. She turned to find Drifter, but instead found herself surrounded by swords and pokemon, all violently engaged in war. She tried to stand up, but something grabbed on to her leg, and pulled her back down. Serena looked to see a dark Garchomp, its fangs deep within her calf. She didn't even feel the blood as it came down her leg, she kicked the beast with her other foot was freed herself.

Again she tried to stand, but then the pain came and shot up her spine, dragging her back down to the floor where the pokemon pursued her, a dark trainer following close behind. He lifted his sword to finish her off, but was struck by flash of blue light and blown across the camp.

Serena took her chance and began crawling beneath the battle, clawing her way through the ground, tearing up the grass and the roots trying to find her way back to the surface. Her leg throbbed; pulsed like an erratic heartbeat about to give out. She felt faint. She reached out.

A rough hand grabbed her delicate wrist. She was lifted up, as easily as leaf, and found herself buried within a dark embrace. She could barely lift her eyes to see the man's face, her body weak and still weakening. The blood dripped hot down her skin. Serena gripped the man's arms, figuring it was either Drifter or Brock, but the arms felt familiar. So did the chest. So did the scent of the breath.

Serena began to grow cold.

The tall figure began to pull her away from the chaos, but she heard Drifter. He called out her name, in a voice more frantic and and more troubled than she had ever heard it before.

She felt the stranger's arms rest her against a fallen tree. The hands let her go gently. As he pulled away from her, she could feel her body react to him drawing back, and Serena didn't have to look up to know it was Ash.

She had memorized the way they felt together; and the way they felt apart. Serena stared down at the floor, avoiding the eyes—which she could feel—on her. She tried biting back her tears, but between his touch and the pain in her leg, Serena began to weep. Water fell down her cheeks and dripped off her chin. And she felt Ash kneel down, his hand reaching for her jaw…

"Get away from her!" Drift came bounding up upon his Dragonite. His sword drawn, aglow with white light.

Serena looked up to see Ash's face go dark, drawing his sword with a jerk of surprise. She watched the shock move up from his muscles to his face. He went white; his eyes growing darker beneath the contrast.

"I shouldn't be surprised," Ash growled, his face falling back in to its rigid intensity, "you just don't seem to die."

"This is between you and me, step away from the girl," Drift warned, lifting his sword to the level of Ash's throat.

Ash didn't move. His countenance seemed to be contorting in to itself, twitching with rage. To anyone watching the scene from afar, it looked as the the young man was about to erupt; to explode with hatred and fury towards Drifter—

But, Serena watched his eyes. His eyes began to flicker, lightening for just a moment—a tenth of a second—in to a familiar golden amber. She knew him then. She knew those eyes. They were jewels imprisoned behind burnt rock; glistening even behind their dark cases, waiting to be picked at and found and polished to take home. They held color that still fought to glow, like stars hidden behind thick clouds striking the earth with lightening; storms that fought to rid the world of stars and make men lose direction.

Serena did not need the stars to guide her. She loved him beyond the storms, and always would.

She reached out to touch him.


	12. Chapter 11

_**Chapter 11**_

 _Sorry for the later update! I was at a conference in LA for a while, but now I'm back so hooray! Anyway, here's the next chapter. We are going to finally enter this new arc where Ash and Serena attempt to rebuild their relationship, as broken and painful as it is. It's not going to be a quick process, but I don't want to make it last forever either. Anyway, hopefully I can find a balance._

 _Thank you for all your reviews, favorites, and alerts! The next update should happen more speedily. Stay tuned._

* * *

Before he had drawn his sword, Ash had felt the light touch of her fingers brushing against the side of his hand. The feathery sensation had caused him to hesitate for a tenth of a second, enough time for Drifter's Dragonite to inhale and explode with a powerful pulse of breath that hit Ash right in the chest, sending him backwards fifty feet in to the trunk of a tree.

Ash felt his body begin to heal, Lunala hissing in his ear, demanding him to get up. He grunted and used to tree to get back on his feet. His head throbbed with pain and confusion. He felt conflicted for some reason. Lunala's voice sounded weak and more distant than usual, and his eyes were watching the world with the daze that follows a long nap. He was still angry, but it went beyond Drifter's return from the dead.

After recovering, Ash looked up to see Drifter urging Serena to come with him. She was still watching Ash from across the fiery blown path, ripped in to existence by the force of the Dragonite's breath. Her eyes were unreadable. He didn't know whether she wanted him to go back to her or to stay away. She was afraid. Looking at him, Serena was afraid and Ash did not expect to be devastated by her eyes. She was afraid of him. She was afraid.

Ash watched Drifter pull her up, and Serena crying out from the pain shooting up her leg. And when she began to cry, Ash lost it.

He drew his sword. He began to run. With his face set in to a growl, he sprinted towards Drifter, and the prophet dropped Serena just before Ash's sword pierced him through the neck. Ash then swung back around and Drifter caught the attack with his blade, parrying the blow to the side. The prophet lunged forward. Ash knocked the blade down and kicked Drifter in the chest, sending him to the floor where Ash tried to nail him to the dirt, but his opponent rolled out from underneath the attack.

Drifter jumped up to his feet, twirling his white sword between his hands, trying to throw off Ash's concentration. He then swung from the right, but Ash blocked the blow and deflected the retaliation. He then swung up, but the attack drew both swords in to a gridlock, both men shoulder to shoulder. Drifter then knocked Ash back, smacking the young man in the face with his hilt and jumped back before Ash could cut the prophet's skull in two.

Ash felt his nose begin to bleed.

"Ash!" Serena called out to him, but he was still dazed from the anger burning behind his senses. It ignited the world in a bright white light, and he began to panic.

"Serena, no!"

Ash felt a hand grab his shoulder, but blinded by the blood and his shock, he lifted his sword and buried it in to something soft and warm.

Pulling away, his mind began to return to him. The brightness of the world began to subside, and the first thing Ash saw was his sword—the dark blade made darker by the blood dripping from its tip—and he saw his hands, tainted liked the rest of him. And he looked up.

Serena was falling. Her eyes were closed—gone from the present—and her skin fell in to a snowy state; frozen white while the hole in her abdomen darkened in to a web of red rivers expanding out of her.

By instinct, Ash reached out to catch her, and she fell in to his embrace; her hair stuck to his face, her blood stained on his hands. He began to shake.

"No, no, no, no, no," he muttered and muttered and searched her face for any sign of life. Ash lifted her head towards him, but it rolled back. She looked so pale.

"What have you done?" Drifter breathed, collapsing on to his knees.

Ash did not have time to waste. He ripped off his shirt, tearing it in to strips and trying it around her lower stomach, pulling it tight to add pressure to the wound. He whistled and his Charizard landed before him.

"What are you doing? I can't let you leave with her," Drifter said, about to redraw his sword but was thrown back off his feet by a blaze of blue fire exploding from Ash's palm.

Ash then picked Serena up and held her in to his chest. He slipped on to his Charizard and the dragon took off in to the air, breathing fire out on to the trees and the inferno rose up, fogging the sky.

After Drifter had recovered from his shock, he looked up and only saw smoke.

 _xxxxx_

Blue fire began to eat the camp from the trees downward. Brock and Clemont were not only dodging beams of energy and shadow balls, but falling trees lit like gigantic torches. The two were using their pokemon to knock aside the burning wood from crashing on to wounded soldiers helpless on the floor. The Dark Army continued their assault, using the reckless destruction to disorient the Purehearted. Brock could see Flynn and the other generals losing control. They were too distracted by their own battles up in the sky to give orders to any of the troops, and their absence began harming the moral of their soldiers.

"Kaleb, start putting out those fires!" Brock shouted, while Kaleb and Bonnie used their burrowed Blastoise to extinguish the flames that began to eat at the grass.

"We've been trying, but everything's burning!" Bonnie cried, coughing at all the smoke entering her lungs and skin and eyes. She clung to Kaleb's arm while trying to take back the use of her physical senses.

"We need to start retreating," Kaleb said, staring hard at the tall gym leader, "you need to take over. Start getting these guys out of here."

Brock hesitated. He looked back at the young trainer, reluctant and insecure. They had only been training with these men and women for a few weeks…why would they listen to him?

"Brock?"

Clemont, Kaleb, and Bonnie were looking at him—all of them scared. They didn't know what to do and if no one did anything, Brock realized, he and all his friends would die. He felt the small triangle burn on his chest.

"Start by going to anyone that's hurt; help them use their pokemon to get out of here. I don't know where Drifter said to go, but make sure once you've helped as many as you can, to follow them back to their second base," Brock began, and threw a pokeball towards Kaleb, who caught it and looked at the sphere, "that's Gyrados, use him to fly out of here."

"How are we going to get the others to stop fighting?" Clemont asked.

"We smoke them out," Brock replied, "we need to smoke everyone out."

The four of them all nodded and went their separate ways; two and two. Clemont called upon Heliolisk; Brock used Toxicroak. They both exchanged glances and then called out in unison:

"Smokescreen!"

 _xxxxx_

Drifter flew frantically throughout the camp, searching and researching the skies for the lost dark figure that had taken off in a shield of smoke. Hoards of dark pokemon impeded him. Riders from Lunala's army charged from every direction. Drifter did not struggle defended himself, but he couldn't keep his Dragonite focused long enough to track Ash's scent. He had lost Ash for good, and with Ash, Serena.

Drifter shouted out of frustration, drawing his sword and knocking an oncoming rider off his Salamance, letting that man fall to the earth from ten thousand feet off the ground. Drifter's attention turned to the battlefield, and his heart broke to see the massive causalities the Purehearted were suffering due to their disobedience.

 _Where is your faith?_

Drifter clenched his sword in tandem with his jaw. He tried not to shake with rage, but shouted at the sky, "This wasn't supposed to happen! Why did you let him take her? You _know_ that if she dies—,"

— _why do you question me, even now? You know that the light will have its victory, as it is written. I work all things together for good. Even the choices of the wicked. Have faith._

Drifter sighed, but did not relax. His muscles kept their contours of tension beneath his skin and he breathed heavily over the clouds. "When are you going to show yourself to this disobedient army and take up the mantle as general?"

Drifter could feel Solgaleo rumble with slight amusement. _Have I not already shown myself through you and the markings on the chest of the Pureheated? Even with my spirit you are still blind, Drifter. You expect me to fall from the sky before all of your faces, stricken with awe, but I will tell you this: I will be revealed through the darkest of hearts, so that you may know I am the King over light and death._

Then Drifter looked back down at the battle at hand. He saw Bonnie and Kaleb helping the injured up and on to pokemon flying them west out of battle. He saw Brock and Clemont creating fumes to hide the vulnerable soldiers on foot, and the army began to retreat. Even Flynn was calling back his men after seeing Brock order them away from the fire. The tide was turning. Obedience was giving way to life.

 _Now, Drifter, will you guide my chosen ones home_?

* * *

Serena thought she had died many times over. She would open her eyes and see nothing but darkness. It took time for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, probably the moon, pouring in from the single small window above her bed against the left wall. From where she lay, Serena could only make out outlines of things; of a chair at her bedside, of a rug on the floor, of the door ten feet from the foot of her bed. She would only last a minute, maybe two, before going back to sleep.

 _xxxxx_

There were times Serena would wake up, but have no strength to open her eyes. In this state she would just touch the covers of the bed, the hard pillow beneath her. She would feel her fingers running themselves down her stomach, to make sure her body was there, and that she wasn't dreaming. She would move her touch down her torso until she felt a hard bandage across her abdomen. She would press on it lightly. The pain would make her faint.

 _xxxxx_

Other times, Serena knew she was being watched. She would open her eyes then, and she would see a figure sitting in the darkness, on the chair next to her bed. She would squint for more detail, but only the outline of his body would peel away from the black canvass of the room. His eyes would reflect the light at the window across from him. They would always be gold.

Serena, for being partly disoriented and partly unsure whether or not he was real, would moved her arm towards the figure. She just wanted to touch him, to feel him viscerally beneath her.

But he would move away.

 _xxxxx_

After what seemed like years living in the dark, Serena woke up to the sun. It came down on her through the small window and heated the sheets of her bed. Serena grew hot.

She tried peeling off the different layers of blankets, but even that took more effort than she expected. She managed to slip out of the comforter and a blanket, and was left with just a white sheet covering her pale, sickly frame. Serena wondered how much time had passed. She also wondered where her clothes were, seeing as she wore nothing but her underwear, her bra, and the large bandage across her lower stomach. The bandages, she noted, were dark red at the center, blots like watercolor all over the originally white canvass. It still hurt, but not as much. Serena could move to her side now without feeling much pain; maybe a light throb. She could lift herself up and sit, which she did, and looked through the window. Outside there was nothing but thick forest, and it turned the light entering the room a yellow-green color. It reflected off of the dark-wood walls of this cabin Serena found herself in. She tried to remember what had happened, but could only remember bits and bits.

Then the door opened.

Serena froze. Memories rushed back to her and she tried not to tremble, lest she should faint. The room grew cold, and icy sweat developed along her neck. She reached for the sheets, bringing them weakly in front of her chest.

Ash came in carrying a tray of berries and tea. He stood there for a moment, while both of them regarded the irony of this situation. Ash still looked dark and cold, his face fixed in to its foreign sternness, but Serena couldn't stop staring at his eyes, and the newfound color in his face. He looked more that the Ash she had known, and this stunned her. This man, whom she had not seen for five years—had not spoken to or been with for so long—was here now, bringing her breakfast, and staring at her as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"You're awake," Ash said, his tone deep and matter-of-fact.

Serena nodded.

Ash went over to her. He placed the tray down next to a plain, wooden nightstand standing beside the bed. He let her watch him, as she studied the lines of his face; the familiar zig-zags, that almost looked like scars, beneath his cheeks. She wanted to keep finding what was familiar in him, hold on to it, so that she could find a way to still love him and forgive him for who he had become and what he did to her. The man fighting Drifter, she could not love. But the boy serving her berries, she would choose over and over again.

When she tried to sit up, Ash stopped her, reaching out without touch. "Wait, it could still hurt."

Serena looked up and saw his brow creased. He was biting the inside of his lip, watching her with a pleading sort of look. When she moved to sit up further, despite his warning, she felt a sharp jab shoot up her stomach. Grimacing, Serena fell back in a daze. The world grew white for a moment and she began to sweat.

She felt a hand catch her skull before it could hit the wall. Ash guided her back down to the pillow, and she took her chance—reaching up to touch his face and felt him underneath her fingers. Serena heard him inhale and let out a jaded breath. He moved pushed in to her hand and then pulled away.

"I did this to you," he whispered, looking out at the window where the sun poured through in growing buckets of light, "as soon as you heal, you should stay away from me. You should stay away from Drifter and that army too, you won't be safe."

"Will you hurt me again if I go back?" Serena asked, surprised by a sudden surge of anger coursing through her.

Ash face twisted in to shock. "I did all this for you,"

"Stop it—stop!" Serena shook her head furiously and the world began spinning again. She took a minute to reorient, and then slapped him; "You can lie to yourself, but don't lie to me anymore. I don't deserve it from you."

Ash Ketchum looked dazed. His cheek began to throb and grow red, stinging from the impact. Without another word, he stood up and left for the door.

Once he was gone, Serena breathed out and began to shake. She tried eating her berries, but the trembling in her limbs caused them all to fall off her fork and on to the floor.

* * *

The Purehearted called the island Lumanto. It was hidden in the ocean between Unova and Kalos, uninhabited by anything or anyone except for a large army of Unovans and Alolans. Brock had never met an Alolan before, and he still couldn't say he entirely understood them. They tended to be too…calm.

Akoni Akela, the general for the Alolan branch, wore sandals for one thing. He was a large dark-skinned fellow, with long black hair tied in a bun. Akoni wore colorful button downs and a wide disarming grin. He greeted the fleeing army with more expectancy than surprise, immediately throwing them a huge feast to celebrate their escape. Brock was at a loss for words.

"You always have to roast a pig after retreating. How else are you going to feel better about yourself?" Akoni let out a booming laughter that echoed all around the Purehearted's new comrades. "Drifter, please stop looking like a bore, or we'll roast you too!"

More laughter.

Clemont and Kaleb twitched the corners of their mouth, unsure how to react. Brock could tell Drifter was more than aggravated. That was when it occurred to Brock that Serena was missing.

Brock stared at Drifter until he met the prophet's gaze. The mysterious man shook his head, knowing exactly what Brock was thinking, signaling that the conversation must wait until later.

"Come on, lads, we're going to get you all housed and drinking freaking honey beer you've ever had," Akoni Akela pulled Drifter in by the shoulder and led all the men into a giant, bamboo hall filled with rows of glossy, tropic tables gathered around a large fire pit that was always lit. The Alolans began to sing and dance while the weathered soldiers gathered themselves and their spirits. Akoni sat Drifter, Brock, and the others beside him at the head of the hall and first made sure their plates were brimmed with tropical fruits and meats before speaking to them about any critical matters.

"Where's Serena?" Brock whispered to Drifter, and the prophet looked back at him with a sobering gravity.

"Ey, ey, ey," Akoni riffed, wiping his chin with a napkin, "eat first, questions later."

Drifter turned back to his plate and began to eat. Brock did the same. It would have been harder to argue had they not been delirious with hunger. However, as soon as their food was wolfed down, Drifter looked at them with an unreadable expression, with a face that read like a stone.

"Ash took Serena,"

There was silence. Bonnie dropped her fork and it clattered loudly on to her plate. Kaleb grabbed her hand. Clemont looked to Brock, who was down in to the table, pale and perplexed. The gym leader looked white, gripping the edge of the table to stop his hands from quaking with rage. His mouth open and closed.

"I…I don't understand." he managed to say.

Drifter explained. He told them of their fight, of Ash's loss of control, and the blade that went in to Serena's body.

"My guess is that he took her to save her life," Drifter said, sipping his cup of ale.

"You let him take her!" Clemont accused, snapping.

Brock shook his head, motioning for the younger man to calm down. He turned to Drifter, with such a gravity that the prophet that the world would fall in to it.

"Is she going to live? Is Serena going to live?"

Drifter looked at them all, meeting each gaze for a moment. He ended at Brock.

"I don't know."

"Are you going to after her?" Bonnie asked, her face in tears, but she was trying to be strong.

Drifter furrowed his brows and shook his head. "We can't. We are needed here. We must trust that this happened for a reason and that—,"

"That is bullshit, I'm sorry, but we can't just stay here and 'hope' she's okay. We can't even know if Ash is trying to save her life! He's been trying to kill us all so far!" Clemont's passion had been kindled, and he was not going to rest easily.

"He's been trying to kill me, not you. I brought you all in to this. He hates that I've put you in danger, and that I fight for the Purehearted. It's been me, he's trying to kill. It's always been me." Drifter assured.

Akoni then shifted from beside the prophet. "You must all rest. You will not be able to think well without sleep. We will discuss our options tomorrow. There are always men to spare for the sake of a fallen or lost comrade."

And with that, the world went silent once again.

* * *

Pikachu scurried in to the forest. He heard the cabin door open, and went to hide in a bush nearby, knowing it was too soon to be seen. The small pokemon looked through the ferns, watching his old trainer come out in to the crisp air, breathing angrily. Pikachu waited and watched.

He had watched Ash save Serena. He had seen the whole battle between the prophet and the dark trainer. The yellow rodent had cried out when Serena ran up to stop the fighting, but no one heard through the roars of the pokemon up ahead. Pikachu watched Ash cry out too, and the fear the bled through his face, and the way he cradled her in his arms, bringing her with him. Without being seen or felt, Pikachu had jumped on to the Charizard's tail, gripping the scales with all his tiny might, and dashed in to the forest when the landed before anyone could see him.

Pikachu watched Serena's recovery, from the early moments—from when Ash moved with panic to undress and wrap Serena in bandages. He had his dark Kadabra use recover, placed herbs on her wound, rested her on the bed beside a window, from which Pikachu watched it all. At one point, the pokemon had been watching Serena during the night. Ash had come in to sit at her bedside. He stayed for every hour until morning.

Serena would stir and speak, but remained unconscious for days. Pikachu would cry against her windowsill, wanting to be in there too, but afraid of his old trainer. The pokemon simply watched and hoped with his little heart that Serena would live.

One night, Ash had knelt down beside her bed, slipping his hand in to hers, bring her palm to his lips. He then leaned his cheek down in to her touch, his tears falling on to her skin, and Serena stirred. With her other hand, she reached for Ash, but caught in a panic, he had moved away.

He had hidden himself in the shadows, and watched her from there.


	13. Chapter 12

_**Chapter 12**_

* * *

 _So, someone pointed out in a review that there was a lack of filler scenes. A filler scene, for those of you who don't know, is a moment of character or situation development where the reader is introduced to an in depth portrait of a character or plot detail. They come in many styles, but ultimately fillers are used to add more texture to a story, lifting it up from the ground from an originally flat dimension._

 _That being said, I completely agreed with the reviewer. I knew I was being lazy in the "filler scene" department, mostly because even I have a hard time restraining myself from moving the plot forward._

 _I want to see Ash and Serena reunited as much as you all do. Trust me._

 _This chapter, though constituted of filler scenes, is **crucial**. Here we see more aspects of Ash's history, a moment during his five year disappearance, and his connection with Drifter and Akoni's connection to Ash. On top of that, I wrote in more development on Bonnie's character-I feel as though she was a bit neglected during the intense conflicts, but its important to see how her character has changed dramatically having to deal with the tragedies she's seen. It's like a twelve year old realizing that the world is full of Romeo and Juliets-tragic love stories-with plenty of murderous Macbeth's in between. _

_Another note: I'm bringing in more familiar characters (though new to the story) to add an outside perspective...We're getting a lot of information about Ash, Lunala, and the war at hand from the Purehearted, but what does the rest of the world see? How are they reacting to the masses of pokemon invading and devastating regions like natural disasters?_

 _All this being said, I massively appreciate your reviews. They are super encouraging. I'm honored by all of the support!_

* * *

" _And reports have confirmed that Johto is now under siege. Kalos is completely fallen. Authorities are attempting to identify the cause of the massive swarms of pokemon, which are rumored to be in their dark version and mega-evolved. Officer Jenny has no comment on whether or not there are actual trainers behind the attacks, however, we have footage from the original attack in Glorio, where a man dressed in black came riding in to the palace on a Charizard in its ultimate form. Here is the footage now…"_

Misty looked up from her cereal and stared at the screen. She spat everything out when Brock, Serena, and Gary appeared at the bottom of the grainy film. She scrambled up to the TV and shivered when a man dressed in black appeared, shooting out streams of blue fire from his pokemon. People screamed. The man turned towards the camera, for only half a second, and then the footage went black.

"Oh my freaking, God," Misty cried, looking back and forth, her hands waving in the air, not knowing what to grab first. "Freaking, hell. Holy sh—,"

"Misty, please," Tracy rushed in to the break room, looking aggravated. He looked back over his shoulder from the doorway and sighed, the kids they were training as a part of a summer program had already begun giggling and mimicking Misty's vocabulary. "What am I supposed to say to the parents when their kids come back shouting curse words! And what are you doing, anyway? You're supposed to be helping."

"Tracy, not now," Misty snapped and began dialing the number for the Pewter city gym, "hello, yes, I'm looking for Brock, is he around?"

Tracy watched her with his arms cross, tapping his foot against the floor.

"No? Can you tell me where he went…? That's okay, thanks for your time," Misty hung up and immediately began dialing another number.

"Misty, we don't have—,"

Misty lifted a hand towards his face and then pointed him to the screen. Tracy grumbled, but angled himself against the door to watch the news. They were repeating the reports, and Tracy was about to complain that he'd already seen them, until the footage came on.

While Misty was still waiting for her call to pick up, she silently mimed with aggressive points and gestures to the video. She tapped on the screen when Brock and the others showed up.

"Holy shit," Tracy muttered.

"Oooo, holy shit! Shit, shit shit!" came a high-pitched choir from the other side of the door.

Tracy jumped and began waving his hands towards the kids, "No, no, no! Stop! Okay, why don't you all go to the practice arenas and do some freestyle—but 2 on 2 only! Go, I'll be right there."

The kids all ran through the Cerulean gym, all excited about the prospect of battling. Tracy slapped his face with a hand and groaned.

"Yes, Professor Oak!" Misty shouted, much too loudly for the phone, "Um, do you know where Gary is by any chance? No? Mhm, mhm…okay, we'll be right over."

She hung up.

"Well?" Tracy prompted after Misty stayed still for a minute in deep concentration.

"Yea, we have a problem. Gary and Brock have been out of contact with anyone for weeks. Gary was supposed to compete at a Grand Tournament in Fuschia but was a no-show."

"He didn't show up?!"

"That is what a no-show means, Tracy," Misty rolled her eyes and began dialing more numbers on her phone, "I'm calling my sisters. They'll cover the summer camp for us while we go see the professor."

"Your sisters hate kids," Tracy remarked, but didn't stop her.

"So do I, and here we are," Misty began packing her things.

* * *

Gary wasn't sure if he was alive. He could feel his mind, throbbing within the inner chambers of his skull, but his limbs were numb. He couldn't move anything. When he opened his eyes, all he saw was darkness; pitch black oblivions. If there was anything in front of him, he couldn't see it. He's been like this for days, for weeks—he wasn't sure. All he could hear were whispers; small breaths scurrying along the sides of the darkness, sometimes coming close, sometimes staying far away. It was like he was just a soul now, without body of shape; formless upon the precipice of the dark, hopeless against the various forms of night coming his way. He couldn't even cry. He didn't feel tears.

In order to keep from going insane, Gary resided in memories. He thought of the lab back home, the small of grasslands blowing in from the fields outdoors. He thought of the forests, of tiny specimens he would collect with his grandfather and study together, watching microscopic worlds unravel at the tips of their fingers. The beauty of the unseen, visible to the two of them alone, under a magnified glass.

Why did he walk away from that?

Well, there was no glory in being a professor. Scientists didn't make the top 10 hottest trainers under 25. They were as obscure as the soil, taken for granted by the public, walked upon as though they didn't matter. Gary couldn't stand it. He wanted fame, power, wealth—everything that came from being what Ash had become…until he threw it all away—and for what? A piece of meteor that spoke in strange voices?

Gary hadn't understood until now. He was caught in the same trap. This… _thing_ , whatever it was, promised everything Gary ever wanted. He had listened to it. And now he was here in the dark, alone. He would have a hard time believing his stupidity, had he been confident in his ability to resist the promises again. He wasn't. He could hear his mind—or the voices—he didn't know. They were still whispering those promises. Even in the dark, they told him that this was temporary. Soon, he would be needed, and soon he would have everything he ever wanted.

Even Serena.

Gary didn't even feel guilty anymore for wanting her. Instead, he was angry that she didn't want him. She was still in love with Ash, and this crucified him. How could she love a man who shattered her? Ash broke her in to pieces and threw her love in to the fire. He didn't care about her. He only wanted to be a pokemon master. Ash wanted that more than he wanted her. Gary knew it. Ash was never one to give up his dreams easily. They had become his identity. No girl would change that. Gary was convinced he could make Serena happier. Once he was powerful—more powerful than Ash—she would see.

These thoughts kept Gary alive. They prompted him to shout out in to the dark, "Whoever you are, I'm yours! Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it, but I demand what you promised me."

Suddenly, a cold gust of wind blew across Gary's face. He began to regain sensation in his limbs, growing heavy under from the weight of himself. He could feel the ground again; the cool, smooth rock of the floor; thick like the chains on his wrists. Something slithered by him, he could hear it. Gary felt himself turn back and forth within the darkness, sensing a presence surrounding him.

 _You called out to me? Even after what Ash did to you?_

"I'm stronger than him. Let me show you," Gary said, trying to hide the tremble in his voice and in his hands.

 _But you're afraid?_

Gary clenched his jaw. He forced back a choke and shook his head, "No, I'm angry."

The slithering continued like a sigh echoing off the walls of the darkness.

 _Good….good…what do you want, Gary Oak? I'll give it to you. Your faith is ressssilient._

"I want to be stronger than him," Gary said, his growing ambition strengthening his voice, "I want to be stronger than Ash."

 _Very well…let it be as you said._

Gary found himself lying down on the floor in a large empty throne room. The walls looked to be endlessly stretching up the mountain, vaulting up in to a fixed point at the ceiling, miles above his head. Polished onyx carved the floor, absorbing all color, and the only light came from torches of blue fire along the grey, stone ramparts of the circular room. On the throne was a dark figure, all shadows, no variation of detail. It formed the silhouette of a man, but the edges were waving about him, like a black fire rising and falling from a core.

All Gary could feel was an intense fear, as though this entity knew exactly how to manipulate and control his soul. He fell to his knees in shock.

 _Get up_ , the figure spat, and Gary did so.

Gary watched as the dark entity walked towards him, circling him as a predator would its prey, before making a final pounce. Gary tried not to shiver or cry. He bit his lip to the point in gave out blood and tensed his muscled until they cramped.

 _Gary, you are more powerful than Ash. I have given you the power you asked for. Now I am sending to off._

"Off where?" Gary asked.

 _Remember that you belong to me know. I can find you wherever you go and bring back to this mountain; to the endless dark. But while you are mine, my power is yours. Even Ash did not possess what you do._

"And what is my first task?" Gary began to grow excited, feeling a dark energy imbue his muscles and his hands. He opened his palm and found a blue fire igniting itself upon his skin. The sensation felt warm and exhilarating.

 _Find Ash and bring him to me._

Gary looked up. "Can't you beckon him yourself?"

Suddenly a sharp pain erupted from Gary's chest, as though a sharp blade were carving a mark in to his skin.

 _His connection to me is not as strong as mine is with you. You have given me everything, thus you will receive everything. Ash will soon realize his mistake. By then, he will be dead._

* * *

Bonnie remember a time back when she was a child; back when the world was soft colors, half-colored pastels, and it was easy to name what she saw. 8 years old. That was the time to be alive; back when there wasn't so much darkness diluting the truth, and she felt as young as she was. 8 years old. She believed in true love back then. She used to find herself hoping that, one day, a boy would look at her the way Ash looked at Serena; as if she were all starlight and sunsets, beauty marked by auric colors of the sky.

The clock struck midnight, and Bonnie was wide awake in her bed. She was thirteen now, just like that. Just because a clock ticked forward and pointed to the hour of change. She didn't feel thirteen. She bore the burdens of numerous lives, of her pokemon, friends, and family. How could she only be thirteen? She had seen unimaginable pain within the eyes of her friends, she had seen grown men cry and die and bleed before her; she had seen pokemon rip each other to pieces, evil at the height of its stride.

And now, her best friend was gone, possibly dead. A love story turned tragedy. Bonnie's breath quaked beneath the pent up sobs climbing up her throat. She was angry. She was angry at the brokenness of the world, angry that love didn't always win. She knew what Serena would say. Serena would tell her not to be angry at Ash, but to be angry at the evil in everyone. Even before all this, Serena knew that what happened to Ash, could've happened to anyone. Her pain had made her wise, and she could see things others missed. Bonnie understood that now. Bonnie wasn't angry at Ash, or at Gary. Bonnie was angry at evil; the twisted version of good, the depravity of mankind. How could she only be thirteen?

From across the room, she heard Kaleb shifting in his bed. Looking towards him, she saw him sit up, yawning, and rub the sleep from his eyes. "Happy Birthday, Bonnie," he said, smiling through heavy eyes.

Bonnie looked at him for a minute, and then broke down in to sobs; chest heaving wails that sought to bring back all of the dead through its sound.

Kaleb swung his legs out from under the covers and ran to her bed, holding forcing her in to his embrace though she resisted.

"I just want to go home, Kaleb. I just want to go home." Bonnie cried in to his chest, shaking against him, tremors like brief aftershocks upon each erupting tear.

Kaleb didn't say anything, as was his way. He only held her, stroking her light hair—silver in the moonlight coming in from the window. He stared out at the night, his dark eyes fixed with a firm determination. He wanted to tell that he'd keep her safe; that he would bring her home, but Bonnie didn't like it when he made things solely about her. Loving her was like loving a choir of hearts, each representative of a person she held dear to her soul. She demanded more weight than just love for herself. Bonnie demanded love for her world—every being and entity within it. Kaleb did his best to give her that, and he knew that Serena had been a piece of Bonnie's spirit he'd failed to protect. He didn't want to just bring Bonnie home, he wanted to bring her home whole.

He held her until she fell asleep. Once he was sure she was dreaming, Kaleb leaned back and closed his eyes. Then he let himself cry too.

* * *

Misty wasn't exactly a nostalgic person. She was a bit more black and white than she was sentimental—that's probably why her sister's always teased her for thinking like a boy. But it didn't really matter. Misty liked the way she was, always had. She loved her job at the gym, the smell of the chlorine and wrinkles the water imprinted on her fingers. At time she felt as though she was water—that is, the element itself—waving and sloshing easily from side to side, a slow rocking back and forth. She wasn't easily shocked though perhaps a bit temperamental; but she was good at adapting to storms.

So when Misty demanded they see the professor right away, Tracy wasn't going to argue. He knew this must be serious if it got her all worked up. He'd known her a for years now, and worked with her every summer at Cerulean, teaching new trainers how to fight with and against water-types. They had grown close, but not in a romantic way—more like brother and sister. They did a majority of their traveling together and often found themselves running within the same social circle.

They flew in to Pallet town on Misty's Gyrados. It was about five o'clock when they arrived, raining, and one of the professor's assistants was standing outside of the laboratory, waving them down. The scrawny scientist ran up to them with a large umbrella, and told Misty that the professor was inside in the incubator room.

Misty ran in and found Professor Oak standing at one of his portable video monitors. He seemed to be in intense concentration, listening to a chorus of voices all trying to speak over one another from the screen. Misty and Tracy crept quietly over to the professor, who spotted them and lifted a finger to signal them to come stand beside him, but out of view.

They began to listen.

" _Oak, there are massive reverberations coming from the middle of the Southern Ocean, 300 km from the Kalosian shore. We have no idea what's causing it, what's—"_

 _"—Rowan, your satellite readers are way off. I'm getting disturbances on the Western Sea, right in between Hoenn and Johto. Now, there sizable waves are—,"_

 _"Gentlemen—Rowan, Cedric Juniper—please. Can't we all agree that there are multiple sources to the turbulence occurring all across the regions? According to my readings, the swarms have been coming from both locations we've mentioned. From one hub, there is a group moving to Hoenn. From Johto, they're moving to Kanto."_

 _"What are you saying, Birch, I'm getting impatient."_

Misty turned to Oak, who cleared his throat, commanding the attention of the other professors. His eyes were closed beneath furrowed brows, and he pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

"He's saying that these are not swarms. They are deliberate attacks. The pokemon coagulate at a joint location, regroup, and then go—or are most likely sent—out towards their next target."

At this all of the professors began interjecting:

 _Impossible!_

 _Why would someone do this?!_

 _Who's responsible?!_

"Gentlemen, these are not the questions we should be asking right now," Professor Oak snapped, his eyes opening wide with frustration, catching the surprise of his colleagues.

Even Misty jumped, startled by seeing Oak grow impatient. He was never like this.

"First, we need to figure out a way to prepare our respective regions for an imminent invasion. Unfortunately, ever since the Kalosian siege, we've lost all contact with Sycamore. But, Professor Elm, you were able to make it out in time. Do you have any details that could provide assistance as we conjure up a plan?"

Misty saw Elm's face nod at the bottom of the screen. He pulled out a notebook full of undecipherable scribbles. He began to read:

 _Pokemon were dark in type and color. Many different types were used, but somehow made violent by nature. Even the meekest of pokemon were seeking to kill. Pokemon that should be no taller than a door were as large as houses. A strange evolution, possibly ultimates. Attacked in large groups. Hundreds. Thousands._

"Were there any trainers accompanying them?" Misty interjected, causing all of the professors to lean forward, bemused, "With the pokemon; did you see any men riding them?"

 _None at all._

"Why do you ask?" Professor Oak inquired, curious and a bit anxious.

"The media has a video of a man dressed in black, standing by his Charizard. I couldn't help but wonder if there are more of him," Misty explained herself boldly. She wanted to enter this conversation.

 _Well, that solidifies your theory, Oak. Someone is behind this. Team Rocket, maybe?_

 _Psh, even this is too scaled a scheme for a localized group of thugs._

"We need to take this to the police—to the headquarters of each surviving region. My guess is that they will call for mass evacuations. My theory is to defend with numbers. It may sound dramatic, but it appears as though we will need our neighbors to survive. Everyone conjured in to one place, using all the pokemon they have; a civilian defense."

 _No one is going to believe such a thing. People are always too frightened of disruption. No one gives up comfort so easily._

"Well, gentlemen, we are going to have to try. Tomorrow night, let's reconvene after we've spoken with the authorities."

All the men agreed, a couple begrudgingly.

Misty looked back and forth from Oak and the other professors. She felt as though so much more needed to be discussed, but suddenly time felt scarce. Everyone seemed to be under the weight of an invisible timer, counting down from an unknown minute—an unknown point fixed in space.

As soon as everyone had signed off, Professor Oak turned to Misty and Tracy, "I know Gary has somehow gotten himself in the middle of this—but I can't be consumed by that seeing as we are all going to have to play some sort of part in this chaos."

"Sir," Tracy began, "do you have any idea what's behind this? Who has this much power over pokemon?"

Professor Oak paused for a moment, as though he were contemplating how much to say. The old man led the two out of the incubator rooms and in to his office, where he pulled off his coat and rummaged through stacks of papers before eventually finding his single-strap bag. He threw it over his shoulder and began shoving papers, research, pokeballs, and his pokegear.

"I'm going to need your help," the professor said, typing on to a keyboard that flipped out from his watch.

"To talk to the police?" Misty asked, high from the adrenaline and thrill of situation's gravity. "Of course, we'll—,"

"No," Oak stopped her, allowing his watch to fold back in to itself, "we're going to the Archives."

"The what?" Misty deflated.

"You don't mean…?" Tracy began to ignite with excitement.

"Yes, we're taking a trip the Pewter City Museum of Science."

"….hooray…," Misty looked at both of them, her face shocked with disappointment and confusion, "I'm sorry—why is this happening?"

"The Archives are some of the oldest notes and files ever recorded," Tracy began to explain, fan-girling, "they're research obtained by the earliest scientist ever from all over the world. Anything you could ever need about ancient pokemon is right there in…"

Tracy trailed off. He looked at the professor and began to grow perplexed himself.

"Um, Oak. Why _are_ we going to The Archives? What do ancient pokemon have to do with anything that's going on."

Professor Oak grabbed his identity badge and tucked it safely in to the front pocket of his bag. He looked at both young adults solemnly.

"This is not the work of man. I don't know if you've noticed, but," the professor led them to the window where the sun was just near to falling off of the horizon, "the days are growing shorter. Look at your watch. Six hours of sunlight, in the middle of summer…in the middle of the south. The night is far spent, and still suspending over hours it shouldn't own."

Just then, the sunlight slipped behind the earth and the darkness took over.

Professor Oak looked back at them. "This power belongs to no man. We're dealing with a very powerful pokemon."

* * *

Akoni Akela thought himself to be a man of simple pleasures. He was in his mid-forties, but muscular from surfing and swimming. He liked pinap berries, and sleeping in the sand on the beach. In truth, he could be a bit lazy; distant from any activity that constituted as real work.

However, Akoni could not ignore his fierce passion for justice; even if he actually had to put in effort to attain it. This, he reasoned, was perhaps why he had been chosen as one of the Purehearted from a young age. He could not think of any other explanation; the broken man he was. He wanted to see the world a better place, where love abounded and hate ran from hearts at the first sight of challenge. Akoni was an idealist, he knew that. One could even say he was a romantic—completely devoted to the idea of self-sacrifice if it meant another's happiness. He would step aside; let a lover go in to the arms of another if that was her wish. He did not like idea of keeping others from love, and he never grew bitter after loving. Akoni considered it an honor to feel so deeply; to lose himself in the romance of pain.

Akoni heard about Ash and Serena's tragic love story from none other than Ash himself. The Alolan had known Ash, back when Drifter was trying to help him break free from Lunala three years ago. The old prophet had brought Ash to Alola to help him find natural beauty; at the time Drifter had been convinced that nature was the elixir to all devastation. The two had stayed at Akoni's hut, which stood on stilts above the sea, connected by a wooden dock to the shore.

Ash had been a troubled mess; shaking and trembling all over. The young man had nightmares, he heard voices every night. He could not be alone in the dark, and so Akoni had him sleep in the living room next to the fire.

One night, Akoni had come out to grab a glass of water. He found Ash sitting on the rug, staring at the fire place, his arm resting on a propped knee.

" _Still can't sleep?"_ Akoni had asked. He could see the memory as clearly as a moving picture. Even now. Even after all this time.

" _No,"_ Ash had kept his gaze on the fire, his light eyes catching the reflection on the flames, mirroring their turbulence and intensity.

Akoni had sat himself beside the young man—a boy in that moment, frightened; bags as heavy as the weight of the world under his eyes.

" _What are you thinking?"_ Akoni had offered Ash a sip of his drink, and the boy had accepted, a small smile, parting through the troubles on his lips.

" _I still love her,"_

Akoni had snapped his head up. He remembered being confused, but Ash had often spoken out of context—too caught up in his mental war to be fully present in any situation.

" _Can you tell me about her?"_ the Alolan had asked, offering the boy a wide grin.

Ash had responded by clearing his throat; a short laugh, an uneasy cough as he began to reveal a light blush. He then spilled out their story. He had told Akoni everything, from describing her beauty, her character, to the moment he first began to love her. He had talked about the way she made him feel loved, important, and how he couldn't lose her—but how he pushed her away—how he needed to save her from himself.

Akoni hadn't been able to fully understand him. The boy spoke frantically, his whole mind in chaos. But the Alolan remembers asking, _"Why did you leave her?"_

Ash had looked at him. His eyes had been red. He had begun to cry.

" _I wasn't good enough,"_

Akoni watched the memory over and over again. At times, he wished he would've said something at that moment. He wished he could've told the young man that he didn't have to be good enough—that this girl had chosen to love him, broken and flawed as he came.

But deep down, Akoni knew it wouldn't have done any good. Ash had been too far gone, numb to all truth, lost in the darkness of his lies.

Their love story broke Akoni Akela's idealistic, romantic heart.


	14. Chapter 13

_**Chapter 13**_

* * *

Serena could feel her strength returning to her slowly, in little increments that built upon each other throughout the day. She still couldn't be sure how long she'd been here in this cabin. Her hours were full of drifting in and out of consciousness, often times leaving behind memories of the moments before. Sometimes, Ash was there, and sometimes he wasn't. Serena would look over and see a tray of food and tea sitting on the nightstand. They hadn't spoken much since she slapped him. Whenever she was awake and he was there, he wouldn't stay long. He'd mutter a few things and leave the room.

During the day, she'd sometimes look out the window and see him cutting up wood for the fireplace. Serena had assumed they were up in the mountains, since it grew colder at night, and the trees were all made to hold snow on their thick pines. She watched him go out, an axe resting across the back of his shoulder blades, and he wore nothing but black cargo pants tucked in to black boots. She examined this new body—foreign to her; more defined and hard than the boy she used to know. She didn't know him now.

What could he have meant? _I did this for you_. The words were lies and he believed them. Serena wondered what he had heard. She wanted to know how Ash lied to himself, or how he was being lied to. She remembered the scene at the castle, in Glorio, seeing Ash's dark form for the first time in five years. She remembered him saying something to Drifter—something about needing to be free—and she knew now that he spoke of Lunala. Conversations with the old prophet came back to her. Moments were he said:

 _He is the chosen servant of light…that is why he must be redeemed or else all is lost…_

 _How did he fall?_ she had asked, but looking back, Serena knew she had not fully understood Drifters response.

 _He grew afraid._

What was he afraid of now? Was his father still alive? How could Ash be redeemed?

Serena wished she had asked these questions, but at the time she had still been in a state of shock. Speech had become a gift she had lost.

 _xxxxx_

Later that afternoon, Ash came in to her room with more food. He was sweating from working outside, his black hair sticking to his temples, and his hands were red from the pressure of holding the axe. He met her eyes, surprised to find Serena looking at him, and then put the tray down next on to her nightstand.

"Ash," she whispered, reaching out weakly, grabbing on to his forearm with a light touch.

Ash trembled. Her fingers were cold, but soft. He tried not to break on the shores of her eyes, blue and searching and bathed in ocean light. He was so confused. From the moment he held her and brought her back to this cabin, all of his attention had been fixed solely on to her. He could barely hear voices during the day. All he could hear were his thoughts—thoughts consumed by her. He had resolved to heal her, and during the process he was healing bits of himself. Redeeming the blackest parts of his soul, the ones which had refused to acknowledge any shred of his remaining humanity. What broke him now was the eventual parting—the imminent separation that was caused by the light and dark—the two elements couldn't exist together. He couldn't ever have her. Serena was too good for him. She was all daylight and spring and he was the dregs of winter.

"Stop," he whispered, but not with conviction, "I did this to you, Serena. I hurt you—I almost took your life. The very thing I was always afraid of doing."

Serena looked at him, her expression set. He didn't even feel her hand slip off his arms and in to his hand.

"Ash, you took my life long before any of this."

 _xxxxx_

That night, Serena grew restless. She was angry and hurt and frustrated, lying so useless in her bed. She wondered if she could leave…if she had the strength, would she? She didn't know. Her heart kept breaking, over and over upon Ash's eyes, but she didn't know if she wanted to leave him the way he was. He was like a child, imprisoned behind a self-placed barrier upon a faithlessness in himself. It was like he didn't know any better—as if he truly believed he was doing the right thing. How could she hate him for that? How could she get angry? How could she do anything but try and love him out of it? Serena had chosen him. He would always be in her life and her heart and her soul. She would always choose him. Her love was her choice, and her choice was Ash Ketchum.

Carefully, aware of the small throbs of pain and the weakness in her bones, Serena moved her legs from underneath the covers. Her bare toes touched the ground and she covered herself up in a blanket, cold and exposed to the crisp, night air. She walked slowly to the door, opening it, and was bathed in the gentle, orange light moving within the living room fireplace.

On the floor she saw Ash. He was asleep on the rug, his head turned towards the fire, his chest rising and falling unevenly. There was no rest upon his face, creased by the tension on his forehead. He kept shivering and sweating—muttering for the voices to stop, groaning in pain.

Serena had seen him like this before. She hadn't known what the nightmares had been back then, but now she knew what tried calling out to him in the dark. She bent down and placed her hands on his forehead, wiping the sweat from his skin. She pushed back his hair and then went to get some water from the small kitchen sink. She went back and placed the cup under his lips, and watched him drink. She continued to stroke his hair. It appeared to soothe him. She began to pray on his behalf, wondering if Solgaleo could hear her, and wondering if the pokemon would help Ash break free.

* * *

Clemont was growing impatient. He did his best not to speak out of term while the generals of the Light Army discussed their next strategy. Drifter and Akoni sat at the head of a long rectangular table, where the leaders had papers, pens, and maps of the regions dressing the glossed mahogany. Flynn was going over casualties and what numbers they still possessed in the western ranks; regarding both pokemon and men.

Clemont and Brock listened, leaning against the wall where Drifter and Akoni sat, watching the generals grow unsettled by the news.

"How could you lose half of the quarter sector?!"

"How many were you up against?"

"What sort of pokemon did the Dark Army use?"

The questions seemed endless, and to Clemont, unnecessary. He wanted Drifter to start making plans to save Serena. He wanted them to start taking back Kalos for crying out loud. His family and friends could be dead. Why didn't anyone seem to understand?

Just when Clemont felt as though he was about to explode, Akoni cleared his throat and commanded the room's attention.

"We were ambushed. The men were panicked and we lost sight of our courage," the Alolan looked out above the men, pushing down of them with an intensity that held firm in the bass of his voice, "And we've lost the girl,"

"I'm sorry," one of the generals complained, "but what does she had anything to do with this?"

Clemont was about to move across the room and punch the soldier silly, but Brock grabbed his arm with a rock-like grip, pulling him back to the wall.

"Actually, everything," Drifter sighed, finally speaking up, moving his chair back to stand, "I don't know if you all have noticed, but ever since the ambush, all enemy advancements have paused momentarily. The entire Dark Army, across the regions, has come to an affirmative halt."

"That's very curious," the same general replied, leaning forward to hear more, "they were moving towards Kanto last time my scouts came back with a report."

"Well, that is their next target, but as of Serena's abduction, all progressions have ceased. Any guesses as to why?" Drifter left the question hang in the dead air of silence.

"Because Ash is missing too," Brock answered, knowing full well where Drifter was going with this. "You said he took her with him, correct?"

Drifter nodded. "The Dark Army is missing their leader…not sure why, exactly, but I have my assumptions." The old prophet turned back to the generals. "Either way, Solgaleo has fashioned an opportune moment for us."

Clemont looked at Brock, who gave him a reassuring nod.

"We're going to beat them to Kanto," Drifter announced, and the generals all shifted with excitement and unease. They were all pleased to go back in to action, but felt the loss of their casualties upon the shoulders of their armor.

"And there's more," Akoni added, also standing, "while Flynn and Solomon lead the army in to Kanto, I'll be taking an elite group with me to Kalos. Our mission will be to find any clue pertaining to Lunala's dwelling, and assess the damages of the region. We will also be looking for the scouts we've lost contact with after the region's fall."

Clemont and Brock exchanged glances. The blonde knew he'd be going with Akoni to find his parents, but he felt cheated somehow—almost guilty. An opportunity to find his parents opened up at Serena's expense. He felt as though he should say something—insist that they find Serena first, but he needed to know if his parents were alive. He somehow got the feeling that Serena's disappearance had occurred for some providential reason, an explanation far beyond his understanding. He began to calm down. The dissolution of his rage gave him a burst of sudden clarity.

If anyone was going to break through to Ash, it was Serena.

"She's not dead," Clemont whispered, turning to Brock with wide eyes, "Serena's not dead!"

The triangle over his heart began to glow with warmth.

"I know," Brock couldn't help but give the young man a small smile. He had felt the reassurance too.

"You're going to Kanto, aren't you?" Clemont asked, pushing up his glasses farther up on to the bridge of his nose.

To the young blonde's immense surprise, Brock shook his head. Brock's gaze turned grave, as though he were bracing himself for an objection that would come upon his explanation.

"I'm going with Drifter," said the rock trainer, "we're going to find Gary."

 _xxxxx_

It was strange. It was strange how they all got here, Brock wondered later on that evening as he began preparing for his journey with Drifter. Back at the beginning, when he first began searching for Ash, when he arrived at Glorio, Brock never imagined how complex Ash's disappearance turned out to be; how complicated the puzzle was. And it all catalyzed upon the discovery of a note. A note, which Brock still kept, tucked away in the pocket of his old, brown vest. He pulled it out now, examining the cryptic Kalon, wondering what it had to do with anything now.

He folded the note back up, and put it back in it place. He wondered how much love was worth in the grand scene of things; he wondered about how dangerous it was to fall in to it—to lose yourself in another, without the promise of ever being gifted a heart or covenant in return. This came from a man, who used to fall in love all the time. He never thought about what it could seriously cost…when it made people afraid.

And it always made people afraid. If there was no love, there would be no fear, Brock concluded, for all of humanities terrors come from the prospect of losing what they love. Be it life, money, a person—all fear stems out of love, and yet no one can stop loving. Perhaps it is a design flaw in nature; one in which humans must always be worshipping something in order to find identity and affirmation. Everyone worships. Everyone loves. Were the two separable? What did it look like to love something without selling your soul? What that even possible?

Maybe, Brock contemplated…maybe true love was different. Instead of being prompted by desperation to worship for satisfaction's sake, maybe some humans learn to choose devotion out of fidelity to a cause—not out of feelings. When a person still has the ability to choose, to act above their desires, that person has kept their soul. When a person can't, and feels as though he or she _needs_ something or someone to continue living, then that person is a slave. Love without choice is an empty feeling, riding in and out of moods; absent of promise or commitment. Such love it not true, Brock finally decided, such love is based on a lie.

So what did Brock choose now? He was going after Gary. He loved the man like a brother, and just as he pursued Ash, Brock would pursue young Gary Oak as well. However, this time he would not be driven out of need—out of necessity to make things right, or fix a situation. No, this time Brock was impassioned by choice.

Upon this epiphany, Drifter entered the room with the grace of legendary bird. In his red and white uniform, the prophet looked authoritative and confident in his ability to lead, though even Brock knew the prophetic ambassador struggled to make sense of recent events himself. Drifter had not been the same since Serena was taken; he had lost his calm calculation, and his conviction to instruct and reassure. His pale eyes looked to impress a detached countenance up his aging face, and though at times the prophet could hide well behind his commanding position, Brock knew that the man was still full of secrets.

"Are you in love with her?" Brock suddenly asked, his bold development beginning to grow outward out into his words.

Drifter stared back at Brock, his eyes weary, as though he understood why the trainer had asked. "You're wondering why I'm so distressed about her."

Brock didn't answer.

The prophet sighed. "Serena was stabbed by a black blade. Though Ash can contain the poison for a time, it will eventually spread through her body and kill her."

Drifter watched Brock turn gray, his muscles tensing under death's spoken presence, retaking the tranquility he had felt before.

"Ash doesn't even know. He doesn't know the wound is poisonous for us marked by the symbol of Light on our chest. He's going to lose her. And with her, he's going to lose himself,"

Brock began shaking his head. "No. No, there must be a way you can save her! You said so yourself. Light always trumps the dark. You must have some sort of spell—some, some—a trick!"

"Before Ash gave himself over to Lunala, he and Serena had already become one flesh. It as this very bond that kept Ash from being given fully to the dark. Part of him still resides in the light—in Serena," Drifter explained, rubbing his pale eyes, "so you see, once Serena dies—,"

"Ash will belong to Lunala. Completely."

Drifter nodded.

The two men sat in silence. The weight of the moment suffocating the hope from the room, and the windows grew dark under tropic storm clouds crashing over the shore. The wind rattled the bamboo hut, and the palm trees hissed between their leaves.

"I wasn't in love with her," Drifter clarified, though there was no need, but his voice was breaking, "I was only in love with what she could do for Ash. I was in love with her love for him."

Brock looked out over the dark beach. The sand turned gray in the storm-light, and the ocean grew angry; waving rough walls of dark water, echoing the turbulence Brock felt in his soul. He could do nothing but stare out the window as the rain began to tap against the sill, leaving tracks of water, streaming down the glass like tears.

* * *

 _Pewter City, Kanto_

Tracy had forgotten how large the museum of science stood above the city; brown bricked walls, large windows expanding up to the high ceilings. The building's architecture drew heavily from Victorian influences, with ornate white accents and stonework—detailed carvings of many different pokemon impressed upon the trimming. The east and west roofs vaulted upward, connected by a flat midsection that tied the mansion together in what, Tracy imagined, looked like a red bowtie.

Inside, granite tile sealed the floor, and all around one could find meticulous sculptures of pokemon made of marble or grey slabs of stone—embedded against each wall within an alcove. There seemed to be at least two on each side, resting between exhibits; staring at the visitors as they walked by.

Tracy stopped to stare at a giant Aerodactyl statue place right in the middle of the foyer. He swore he could see it breathing. The teeth and the veins and the muscles were refined by careful detail, and Tracy expected it all to move at any moment. He imagined the statue beating its wings against the granite, shooting through the glass dome above, creating a flurry of crystal shards to rain down on the patrons. Tracy snapped out of his trance. He looked and saw Misty and the professor already at the front counter—Oak showing the employees his ID badge.

One of the ladies working the ticket counter, glanced at the professor and handed him a white pass key, no numbers or symbols on either side. Professor Oak tucked the pass in his back pocket, and thanked the lady with a nod and a tip of the hat. He looked over to see if Misty and Tracy were still following his lead, and moved along once reassured.

The museum seemed relatively empty today. Tracy could hear their footsteps echo within each room, ricocheting off the cool tiles and onto the walls that projected their sound with resounding clarity. They walked through the exhibits, getting lost in them as though the whole building were a maze. At one point, with the pass key, the professor led the two in to a door that read:

 _Authorized Personnel Only_

And the door opened in to a staircase that led down in to the depths of the museum, below the ground floor. It was dark. Tracy could feel the cool, damp air meeting their faces while his eyes began adjusting to the dim kerosene lights lined down and along the walls of the basement.

At the bottom, they walked down a long corridor, electric wires and pipelines running along the top. In the distance, growing closer, Tracy could make out a red lamp illuminating the front of a steel vault.

"This is creepier than it needs to be," Misty muttered, "you would think they keep gold down here."

"What makes you think that these archives aren't worth more than diamonds?" Professor Oak proceeded to again take out his ID badge.

Next to the vault on the wall was a key pad and a round scanner. Oak stood in front of both, laying his badge on the scanner until he heard a high beep, and then lowered his face down to the green screen. A bright, horizontal beam of light fell over his face and again there was a positive beep, which allowed the professor to proceed typing in a long, complicated passcode on the key pad.

The vault began to unlock itself, the gears inside clicking open until the door was released like a gasp from the wall. Professor Oak led the two inside and then shut the large, steel barrier, closing them in darkness for a few seconds before dim, green lights flickered on.

Tracy and Misty both gasped at the vastness of the room being illuminated by the lights racing down the high ceilings. Shelves full and full of ancient books, scrolls, manuscripts, piled high up to the ceiling; like a maze wove themselves through the vault.

"Welcome to the archives," Professor Oak announced, studying the high shelves like an old man appreciating the sky, "you will never find a more diversified and complex collection of scientific and historical research, reaching back since the beginning of the Middle Ages. Scientists all across the regions, from all different kinds of fields, eventually wind up here to better understand the history of pokemon and our world."

Tracy could hardly contain himself. He wasn't much of scientist, but he was a huge history buff. Along with being an amateur researcher and a mythology obsessed bookworm, Misty considered him a total nerd—but right now he didn't care. He was in heaven.

"Professor, where do we even start?" Tracy asked, restraining himself from running up and down the aisle, collecting all sorts of material to read.

Professor Oak, sensing this, said, "Okay, number one rule: don't touch anything. Most of these manuscripts are already fading or falling apart. Unless I give you the "okay," I don't need you ruining thousands of years of research."

"Don't worry about me professor," Misty sighed, preforming a half-hearted salute, "I couldn't be more bored."

"Don't worry, we'll have plenty of work to do once we find the creation section," Professor Oak lit an oil lamp hanging against the exit, and picked it up to provide more light for the way, "we avoid bright, electric lights down here. They fade the text. We are going to have to play hide and seek the old fashioned way,"

"Why the creation section?" Tracy asked, "Doesn't that seem a bit random?"

"Well, no," Professor Oak began to lead them down a long, straight corridor through the vaults, "I think it's safe to assume a few things: one, that if this is a pokemon, it's going to be a legendary seeing as it has the power to control masses; two, if that pokemon is a legendary, it has to have existed since, or close to, the beginning of time; three, I am not an expert on creation mythology or history, neither am I a specialist in mythic and legendary creatures, and so we are going to have to do a bit of research in that field."

"Don't you know people, who study these things?" Misty asked, "How many legendary pokemon can there possibly be?"

The professor gave her a wry smile, "You'll be surprised to know that there are, hypothesized, to be over one hundred legendary pokemon—most have been classified as extinct or myth—but they are representative of the entire world, all the regions we know or don't know. There are very few scientists who dedicate their work to researching such a field, as it is vast and exceedingly complex, with little to no modern evidence to go by. I used to have colleagues that were experts in legendary history, and taught at universities, but they gave up the field a long time ago after such classes became less and less popular. It is difficult to study something many people believe no longer exists."

Misty contemplated this. She gave the shelves a thoughtful study and wondered how many eyes these scrolls had seen; how many hands they had touched. The world grew more and more complicated with age, and these primal manuscripts—these shelves full of dust and memories—were only small pieces of evidence to support such a claim. Misty didn't like to feel small, but under the weight of such history, it was hard not to feel like a speck sitting on the thin line of time, reaching back all the way from the open ends of an infinite spectrum.

The three continued walking through the vaults, allowing the echoes of recollections to guide them through the past; ominous voices ringing out across the dark.

* * *

Serena woke up to find herself back in her bed, her bandages changed and clean. She wondered what the wound underneath looked like. The young woman didn't find herself so much in pain, but rather she felt weak—weaker than yesterday. Her bones grew heavy underneath her skin, and to lift her hand took tremendous effort—effort she was willing to use to run her fingers through Ash's hair, white flesh against a dark ocean. He had fallen asleep beside her bed, his head resting on the mattress, his face towards her.

He looked peaceful now, perhaps because of the light blossoming in through the glass; perhaps because the night was over.

Serena wanted to memorize this face too. She lightly traced his jaw, the outline of his parted lips, the zig zags still faint on his cheeks; she moved to brush with his cheek, and Ash woke all of a sudden, snatching her wrist out of reflex, moving it away from his face.

Ash looked at her, dazed. His eyes looked bright under the streams of sunlight, like golden orbs of tree sap. "I was dreaming about my dad," he said, his voice still full of sleep, "we were walking through pallet town. It was summer. The summer before he left, I think."

"How old were you?"

"Seven," Ash answered, smiling slightly towards the window, as if caught up in a memory of his childhood self. "He was a trainer. He had an Arcanine, we called her Bell, and I would ride her all around the field behind Professor Oak's lab."

"Why did he leave?"

Ash looked down at the bed, tracing the creases in the sheets. "It's hard to raise a family, when you feel like you're left with incomplete dreams. Whenever we'd watch the leagues together, Dad would start to brood. He would get angry, watching trainers less qualified than himself, win the whole thing. I think he felt jaded."

Serena listened. These were the conversations they never had at the beginning. They were the ones she had desperately craved from him—the ones that allowed her in to his heart, that allowed her to know him deeply.

"He left in December. It was just after Christmas. He left Mom his ring with a note I never got to read, and he left me a hat," Ash reached up to touch his hair, as though he were recalling the way the cap felt on his head.

"Where is he now?" Serena asked, her hand seeking his above the sheets.

But Ash drew back, as he always did. "He's dead. Drifter killed him."

Serena held still. She didn't want to break the moment with a breath, shattering the thin ice they walked while he spoke. She kept her eyes on him, and did not blink. She would not be swayed by even the darkest detail.

"Your dad heard lies too," she said, filling in the missing parts of the story, "did Lunala promise your dad the things it promised you?"

Ash smirked, a bit cynically. "Not quite. My dad wanted power for power's sake. I never wanted that."

"What did you want, Ash?" Serena watched him begin to tense under weight of the question, deciding whether or not to answer.

Eventually, he met her steadfast gaze.

"I just wanted to make people proud."

* * *

Bonnie looked at Clemont as though he had lost his mind. She kept shaking her head and pushing him away from her, needing room to breath, room to think. Her blonde bob shook as her body trembled with actual anger, rage she didn't even know she could have.

"You're going to Kalos? Without me?" she muttered again, trying to make sense of the logic before her. Clemont would be going back to look for their parents, and she would stay here. She wouldn't even be going to Kanto. She and Kaleb would stay here.

"It's too dangerous," he tried to reason, "you'll be safe here. I can't lose you too, do you know how many people we've lost already?"

"Like Serena? Because I assume you're not going to let Kaleb and I go after her," Bonnie snapped, "why do you think I'm so weak?"

"Because you are!" Clemont yelled and the room went silent.

Bonnie breathed, stilling herself in the turbulence of the moment. She felt like thrashing and punching Clemont in the chest; like screaming until the weakness in her was gone. She felt like taking off and flying to find Serena herself.

And then there was a thought.

While Clemont kept talking, trying to explain why this was for her own good, Bonnie began to think about a rescue plan, about how she and Kaleb would take off after Serena; she wondered where she would begin. She wondered if Drifter would help her.

 _xxxxx_

"I'm sorry, Bonnie, but Drifter and Brock have already left," Akoni Akela told Bonnie after she found him in the war room, a giant structure made of wood and thatched roof, filled with practice targets, weapons, and a large table full of maps and metal pieces symbolizing one side or another.

Bonnie deflated. She sank in to a chair near the table, and stared blankly at the map.

"Did you need something?"

"Well, yes," Bonnie muttered, but didn't think to continue. She began playing with a silver thimble that had been left off the map, examining the tiny piece of metal in her fingers.

Akoni Akela watched her, confused. He walked over to see what Bonnie held in her hands and said, "I was looking for that."

"For?"

"Monopoly. I misplaced the pieces."

"Right,"

Bonnie put the thimble down and she began to study the map. She followed the arrows marking the currents and the wind, and she saw Kalos covered in black metal symbols. She assumed they represented the Dark Army, consuming her home, on their way further. Part of her couldn't believe that the Ash she knew, was the Ash leading this army. The Ash back then would be enraged by the injustice taking place. He would be the first reckless idiot to fly down in to the flurry of danger, risking his life for his friends, and for what he thought was right. She had never believed people changed until now.

"Where is Solgaleo?" Bonnie asked, the question finding its way to her lips after being buried beneath her thoughts for so long.

Akoni Akela took a seat next to her, giving her a warm, tan smile.

Before he could answer, Bonnie continued, "Why hasn't he been around—helping? Isn't this his army? When is he coming? Will he ever come?"

"You're very observant for your age," Akoni remarked, leaning back in his chair, his strong arms folding themselves behind his head.

"I'm very traumatized for my age," was Bonnie's response, and without warning, Akoni began to laugh, loudly.

Bonnie stared at him, surprised. And then she fell in to laughter too. The two of them laughed, harder than they expected—harder than what was really necessary—but it was the kind of laughter that healed. The kind that was so desperately needed to bring light into dark situations. They laughed and laughed and laughed, until they were in tears and their faces were red.

After the sound began to die down in their throats, the room settled and began quiet once again. Bonnie wiped the tears from her eyes, and then, broke in to sobs.

Akoni anticipated this. He sighed and laid a fatherly hand on her back.

"Solgaleo will return, but no one knows how or when," Akoni began, softly, searching the map as if it held all the answers to Bonnie's questions. "What I know is that he is so powerful, that if he were to break in to the dimension of our time, it would create a cosmic rift. There must be a bridge for him to cross, lest the whole world be ripped apart by his power. See, Lunala is fallen. He is of this world, no longer of the one beyond. My belief is that Solgaleo wants to restore the moon, and bring it back to its original place—outside of this realm. Such things are beyond my understanding…but I know that there is a plan. And he will come at, exactly, the right time."


	15. Chapter 14

_Sorry this update was a bit slower than usual. I'm currently on a vaycay and struggle to find some decent internet to publish. Also, I'm currently working on a new story. Or rather, I'm working on several different concepts, and developing to see which ones I like the best. You may see some updates from me for new stories, but don't worry, this fic is my first priority. I'm just going to be throwing some concepts out there and see how people respond since I tend to be a little torn between two storylines in particular. So whichever seems to be received best, I guess that will help me make a decision. Anyway-_

 _Here's the next chapter. Things begin to move a bit quickly here, but I'll be slowing down the story after this chapter to give you all some time to breath haha. We technically, still have a long way to go ;)_

 _Thank you for all your reviews! I greatly appreciate the encouragement :)_

* * *

 ** _Chapter 14_**

Deep in the night, Ash moved deftly in the dark to uncover and clean Serena's bandages. He had hoped she was asleep, but as he began unwrapping the stained cloth, she stirred and whispered his name. Ash paused to take her warm breath blowing across the streams of moonlight, sighs of cold light from the window, lips touching her white skin. He breathed in to steady his hands, shaking as they continued their silent graft over her wound. Ash couldn't think straight knowing her bright eyes watched him curiously, the way they always had even when they first met. Back then, they had unsettled him in a different way. Back then, they inspired him to work harder—to show off, in a way—they made him want to be a better person, someone less obnoxious and self-consumed. The made him want to impress her, and that was before he even loved her.

Now her eyes begged for him to kiss her. He spoke their language well, and could always tell what she wanted in a glance, sometimes long before her words identified the desire for themselves. Ash kept avoiding her stare. He knew that is he looked for too long, he would get lost and never find his way back. And he didn't want to hurt her. He didn't want to drag her down with him; like dragging an angel down in to hell, like feeding fire to a creature of ice, hoping for it to stay frozen under the flames. She wouldn't survive.

 _Could you?_

Ash dismissed the voice, but stilled. He hadn't recognized it. Had that been his own thought? He had heard it as clear as a glass hitting the floor, cracking against his visceral conscious.

"Ash, are you okay?"

Ash snapped back to present, finally unwrapping the scar.

He frowned.

The skin over the top had healed. It was smooth and clean, but underneath her flesh was still black, with tiny dark veins expanding outward. Ash ran his fingers over the bare flesh and she flinched.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, looking at her now, his eyes dark beneath the midnight; his hair a black silhouette against the wall. "When I touch you…does it hurt?"

"Yes," Serena breathed, her voice trembling as he pulled his touch away from her skin, "but I no longer feel the scar,"

Ash watched her while he processed her words, resisting the urge to move up her body, feeling his way to her lips. Without warning, he stood up from the bed and stepped out to the kitchen to grab a bitter powder, which he mixed in with water and had her drink. He watched Serena's face contort in to mild disgust as she took the strong shot of medicine, and he couldn't help but smile, amused.

"What?" Serena asked, looking a bit shocked by his sudden grin.

"I don't know, I was just," Ash tried to suppress his bubbling lightness, "I remember the time you made me take this disgusting medicine, and I spat it out all over your clothes."

"I was so angry with you," Serena finished, remembering immediately the moment, smiling.

The two sat silently, smiling at each other for the first time in years. The moment fell in to a natural bliss, one they relished in secret—afraid that its acknowledgment should shatter the instant.

Eventually Ash looked down at the floor, his smile fading but not entirely.

"Can," he began, but stammered, second guessing himself, "can I show you something?"

Serena kept smiling. Her eyes swimming in the starlight.

"Sure,"

"Do you feel okay to stand?"

"I would feel better if I had clothes,"

"Right," Ash blushed, and began scrambling to find her something to wear.

 _xxxxx_

Because her old clothes were tattered and bloody, Serena found herself in one of Ash's large shirts. He had grown so tall, that the black T-shirt stopped a few inches above her knees. She told him it was fine, and to herself, she liked the way it smelled of him—like pines and firewood and the cold. Serena tried to ignore the growing weakness in her body, hugging herself tightly to fight away the crisp air. She moved out of the bed, finding the door to the living room, the cabin empty, and then towards the front door.

Outside, Ash waited for her, pacing back and forth, wiping his hands on his pants. He looked so young to her then, like a boy waiting to take a girl to the prom, but Serena didn't regret her lack of a gown. In his shirt, she felt one with him again.

When he saw her, Ash smiled, but more nervously. He took her hand and led in her in to the forest, walking backwards still facing her; the way behind him memorized.

"This cabin used to be my Dad's," Ash said, "Drifter showed it to me back when he was helping me to be free—back when we both believed it was possible."

"When did your dad ever use it?" Serena asked, her eyes never leaving his, never staying in to the dark woods. Her full trust on him.

"Back when he was trying to escape,"

Ash then pulled her in close, a little too roughly and she collapsed on to his chest. She breathed him in, panting. Serena watched the forest dance in the dark, listening to his heart quicken while the seconds drugged their minds, manipulating time in to a circular continuum.

"Sorry," Ash said, helping her rebalance, "you're still weak. Maybe we should—,"

"I want to be here," Serena said, placing a hand on his pectoral, feeling the heat emit from the skin beneath his shirt, "I need fresh air."

Ash decided to bend down and swing her in to his arms, carrying her bridal style through the woods, the dead sticks and leaves crunching beneath his boots.

"This way you don't have to work too hard," Ash grinned, his boyish humor returning in small fragments, sparkling in his eyes.

"You know how much I hate physical labor," she smiled coyly, trying to hide the flush in her neck, and the incessant hammering of her heart.

Was this a dream? Did the world outside even exist?

Did the last five years, without him, even happen?

Serena hugged him close, crushing the last five years away from the space between them, watching them break apart like the organic debris on the floor of the woods. They felt distant and veiled in disbelief. Serena closed her eyes and was taken back to the first moments he kissed her—back to sleeping bags pulled close together, to sneaking behind dressing rooms and stage lights—back until all the nightmares disappeared, as though they never haunted her dreams in the first place.

"Where are we going?"

"We're almost there," Ash picked up his pace, Serena a feather in his arms, and he did his best not to break her.

Suddenly the forest broke. Ash stopped and nodded before him towards a large lake, white under the illumination of the moon and the vast expanse of stars overhead. They fell in to the water like jewels rippling in the dark. The trees walling them in to the scene, growing like an embrace around the body of water, the black silhouettes standing before the blue velvet sky.

"Ash," Serena breathed, but he set her down on the ground and placed a finger to her lip, his other hand still intertwined with hers; his thumbs circling the inside of her wrist.

"Watch" he grinned, and began forming a ball of blue fire in his palm, coddling it until it grew large enough to let go.

It shot out into the lake like a star, a burst of steam erupting from where it entered the water, but the fire didn't go out. Instead, Serena watched it fly deeper and deeper until it ignited against the bottom where a wild fire set the lake a blaze with blue-green light. The flames bloomed everywhere, illuminating the watery floor in to a carpet of arctic-colored crystals. An aurora of blues and greens and pinks sparkled out from the water, waving in tandem with the rippling waves.

Serena gasped. The crystal fire still going, the radiance caressing her face.

"How?"

Ash stood beside her, walking her over to the water, touching it with his fingers.

"It's actually Charizard's power," Ash began to explain, his hand moving with color, "we are so linked that its power has become my own. Even without it near, I can use parts of its ability. The fire I used to illuminate the crystal was actually not fire at all, but dragon breath. That's why the water couldn't extinguish it. Dragon breath lingers on crystal. That's why dragons collect gems. They like to lie in beds of their own fire."

"It's beautiful," Serena skimming the surface of the lake with her fingers, feeling the cold ripples touch her skin. She stared hard at the crystals and could see the dragon fire waving at the core of the mineral, embedded inside like an encased flame.

"Ash," Serena turned to him, "the power you have…is that because you evolved Charizard in to its ultimate evolved form? Is that what it means to be 'an ultimate?'"

Ash nodded, his smile fading. "It's not an ability that is well-known or common. It's not given freely, either."

Serena reached up to turn his face to her. His amber eyes, orbs of speckled fire, catching sparks of the light around them.

"Ash," she said, gliding her hand from his hair down the side of his face, "you're still making things beautiful. Even in the dark."

* * *

Bonnie woke up in sunlight. She gasped and ran out the door of the barracks before Kaleb could ask her what was wrong. Her small, bare feet ran through the sand, across thorny grass, until she reached Akoni Akela's hut, where he was sitting on the porch, shirtless, with a ukulele in his arms.

"Ah! Miss Bonnie, have you come to join me for the tradition in which we sing beach songs before rushing in to battle?" Akoni laughed and then began his foreign songs, singing them in a raspy throat that reminded Bonnie of the outer shell of a ripened coconut.

"I had a dream," she says, but he keeps singing as she approaches. She stands in front of him, her hands on her hips, tapping her foot.

Akoni finishes the song on major chord, his voice in harmony with the notes, and then he sighs with delight and amusement.

"We all have dreams, but alas! Today I lead some men to Kalos, and my dream of sitting here in my rocking chair—the sun on my skin—singing the songs of my ancestors without interruption, shall never come to pass,"

"Is there such thing as a lake made out of crystals?"

Akoni stopped rocking in his chair, placing a dark foot on the bamboo railing of his porch.

"Curious question, my little friend, why do you ask?"

"I saw a crystal lake, all sorts of colors—ones like the lights in the north you can see during the winter," Bonnie began, trying to remember the details, "they lit up from the bottom. The lake was large, on a mountain—I think—or in some valley. Something lit the lake in blue fire. I kept thinking it was Ash, but that's impossible right? What sort of lake has a crystal floor?"

Akoni just stared at her. Thousands of thoughts began swimming in his mind, he felt like a Remoraid wondering which current to take. He tried to keep his easy going countenance light on his face, but everything faltered. Solgaleo must have given her some vision.

"Is that where he is?"

"Where who is?"

"Ash—is that where you saw him?" Akoni asked, talking more to himself, but allowing Bonnie to add on to his internal conversation.

"Well, _where_ is it exactly, and I'll tell you if I saw him or not," she bartered, knowing now that she had been on to something.

Akoni's head fell back in laughter. "I can't lie to you, my little friend, you are too cunning. And I like you, to some extent."

The Alolan stood up and stretched his dark body. "That lake you saw is actually in a remote mountain range called the Indigos. The name, of course, originating from the Indigo Plateau, from which the mountains stretch out. They make up the large, uninhabited barrier between Johto and Kanto—that grey nothingness. Of course, there isn't just nothing there—there are forests of dark beauty, lakes full of glacier water and precious stones. My theory is that explorers originally reported the region as desolate so as to keep the beauty of the Indigos a secret; one last natural beauty within a world of greed."

Bonnie gasped again, "that's where Ash has Serena! We need to go there—we need to go now!"

"Ah, well," Akoni smiled, " _I_ have a mission to lead. I can't be taking detours at the Purehearted's expense, but…"

The Alolan looked at her.

"If a certain girl and her companion were to take that Pigeot sitting over there in the middle of camp, doing nothing of importance—and if that girl went without my knowledge," Akoni shrugged, "well, I couldn't stop her. I would just hope, that she would be very, very careful while she looks for a certain cabin hidden right in the center of the mountain range—on the mountain Okono, I believe."

With that, Bonnie took off. She ran back just for a moment, to wrap Akoni's waist in a small hug, and then left with sand kicking up behind her feet.

Akoni sighed and smiled after her. Only when she was out of sight did her begin to shake his head with wonder.

"Drifter is going to kill me."

But then the Alolan stopped. He looked over the ocean and the sun and the birds and began to grin again.

"Drifter doesn't have to know,"

Akoni then turned his back on the sea and headed towards the camp, whistling.

* * *

Drifter and Brock began their search in Johto, back to the camp in which they were ambushed. From above, flying on Drifter's Dragonite, the camp looked like smoldered charcoal; the remains of a fire, cold. As they drew closer, cutting through the first thin layer of clouds, they noticed dark figures moving in and around the camp. A dark haze of pokemon swarms could be seen expanding in every direction, thousands of them ready to march forward at any moment.

Drift yanked his dragon back up, hiding behind a thick flume of clouds. He turned to Brock and yelled over the wind.

"We're going to go right in the middle of that camp. Any movement towards Kanto will start here. There must be information we can gather."

Brock nodded in agreement and recovered his ears from the cold behind a dark hood.

Drifter ordered his Dragonite to use mist, veiling them all behind a thick fog. The Dragonite then spiraled straight down towards the ruins, it's mist following it down like a carpet being pulled over the earth. The pokemon targeted a break in the wave of troops and landed within an area of dark and dense forest, the pines shutting out most of the falling sunlight up ahead.

Sunset would come upon them soon. They needed to find a way to sneak in to the camp after dark and their opportunity came almost immediately upon their landing. Just as Drifter returned his Dragonite, two dark trainers, dressed all in black robes and a hood, appeared from within the thicket.

Drifter called upon a Gloom from the forest, ordering it to put the men to sleep with its powder and within seconds the trainers swayed back and forth and collapsed on the ground.

Brock and Drifter exchanged glances and assumed the same thought. They undressed the men and put on their attire, throwing the hoods over their faces.

"This was rather convenient," Brock muttered, "but I have no idea how these guys see anything with this thing on."

Drifter began leading them towards the ruined camp. "Do not say a word, do not look at anyone directly in the eye, stare at the floor—anything that will prevent them from noticing you," Drifter explained, "I can misdirect their attention from us, but the mirror will be broken if either of us speak. All you need to do is follow me."

Brock didn't quite understand, but he figured it was best to just listen.

The walk to the camp was a three-mile trek through difficult terrain, and by the time they approached the burned walls, wood half-eaten by ash, it was dark. They could see the fires of the enemy burning bright like meteors invading the stars. Brock could feel the sweat on his neck turn cold at the sound of Aerodactyl screeches, Tyrannitar roars, and men cursing at their pokemon and each other. His eyes were to low towards the ground, he bumped in to a solid cold figure.

He panicked and snapped his head up, only to see a sculpture made of stone. It was a man, and he was screaming. His rock mouth wide open in terror. He was holding up a sword, about to come down on his opponent with a lethal slash. Brock inhaled sharply when he noticed the man's uniform—a stone replica of the Purehearted attire, the badge distorted in the rock.

"Is this…?"

"Real?" Drifter pulled him back from the stone, "Yes. That man was once alive. The Dark Army like to take the dead and pose them and turn them in to stone as some sort of cruel trophy garden. Lunala wants to make it clear that he's been here, and the stone sculptures are a reminder for his grunts of what they've done, and what they will become if they turn treacherous. Lunala garners loyalty with fear. He is a master of the sort."

Brock couldn't help but stare. That man, his comrade, sat as a stone without rest. Brock clenched his fists and growled, trying to gulp down his own fear. He couldn't help but imagine his friends frozen in to rock; him pounding at their chests, trying to free them from their stalwart prison. Looking outward towards the fires, he could see the statues scattered all around the ruins, silhouettes against the burned buildings and forest trees; cold marble rising out of the ashes. Brock shuttered.

"Now is not the time to fear," Drifter said, his footsteps crunching the debris beneath, soot rising up from his boot like a dark cloud against the flickering orange lights beyond.

Brock pulled his hood back up over his face, and the two moved, like ghostly wraiths, in to the fires.

 _xxxxx_

Gary whipped around from his fire where he sat with a number of other dark figures, silent as though in an obscure trance. They looked near death; pale, skin down to the bones, their eyes so far away they saw through space and in to darkness. When they spoke, only curses came out—oaths of revenge, love, or hate or everything and nothing. They moaned and would then fall back in to their comatose state.

Gary thought of robots, ones that only moved upon the wave of an order or mission. For now, they had nothing to do but stare at fires and fall in to memories. And they wouldn't eat, sleep, or speak unless it was at an image in their head.

Beyond screams, there were sobs.

They didn't keep good company. Gary often found himself shivering with disgust at the skeletal appearance, especially when they stared at him like zombies; looking past him in to another dimension or reality.

Gary growled and stood up from his place by the fire-pit. No one near him even twitched as he left, all of them lost. He hated all of this searching. He knew Ash couldn't hide from Lunala forever, but so far his searching has been in vain. Even Lunala didn't seem to know what was going on…Gary could sense the pokemon's frustration and anger as if it were consuming him, and whenever Gary asked whether they could just let Ash go, Lunala roars out curses and shoots him with immeasurable waves of pain. All Gary could do was whimper.

 _What if I were to lead them to Kanto?_ Gary thought, bitterly.

Another bolt of pain. It shot down his spine and Gary fell face down to the earth. He began to lose himself, to forget where and who he was and this terrified him. Each day, he felt more of his being melting away like an iceberg pooling in to dark waters, like blood against the saltiness of the sea. His memories were fading, his emotions grew wary, and even his anger and hate were turning in to fear and apathy.

 _You will search for Ash until he or you are dead. You are mine._

Gary cried out against the dirt. He crawled back to the fire and held back a sob. He felt his mind begin to buzz, a dark presence invading the floor of his subconscious. He couldn't think. He couldn't see. His eyes glazed over with shadows and he began to yell, fighting to regain his conscious. In his mind, Gary was gripping a mirror image of himself, trying to hold on, but his dark clone kept pulling away with a smirk. It drew his sword and plunged it in to Gary's chest. Gary couldn't even scream.

 _You are mine._

When Gary opened his eyes again, they were black.

* * *

 _Pewter City, Kanto_

"I found it!" Tracy exclaimed, and then took a step back as he began to read the old book in his hand, "Or, I found something…"

"Didn't I tell you not to touch?" the professor grieved, prying the pages from Tracy's fingers.

The book was covered in dust. The spine seemed to be unraveling at the edges and the pages were damaged by humidity or water and faded from exposure to harsh light. However, Professor Oak could still read the faint imprint of a title on the leather binding.

 _The Legendaries of Creation:_

 _Solgaleo, Lunala, & Arceus_

"I've heard of Arceus," Misty muttered behind them, crossing her arms, "but who are the other two."

"We're about to find out aren't we?" Professor Oak opened the pages, and flipped past the introduction to the first chapter.

"1. _The Cosmic Balance:_

 _For the forces of nature to find homeostatic state, there must always be balance. The same could be said for the universe of the cosmos. For years, scientists have theorized many facts regarding the nature of the life cycle, especially since the discovery of Arceus, creator of the universe, and the pokemon and man within it. However, scientists have now begun to hypothesize two other entities involved in creation apart from Arceus, but working in tandem. Arceus created the universe, the firmaments, but it did not create light and darkness, nor life or death. In fact, these two realms, which have been shrouded in mystery for so long, can only be explained by the myths of the Pokemon Solgaleo and Lunala—names identified for the Sun and Moon by the ancient Alolans…"_

"Fascinating," Oak trailed off, continuing to read aloud the second chapter:

" _Solgaleo, a mythical lion-like beast, depicted on cavern walls to have a white body and the colors of the sun marked on its entity. It is said to have created light and life. It's breath alone can raise those from the dead. It had once been revered and worshipped by many ancient civilizations all around the world. The pokemon is said to be most involved with humanity as it is the author of free will and the human soul. The myth states that Solgaleo's breath gave humans and pokemon spirits, setting us apart from soulless creatures…"_

"What does it say about the other guy?" Tracy asked, and Oak shot him an impatient glance.

"I'm getting there," the professor flipped forward.

" _Lunala, a mythical bat-like creature, depicted on cavern walls to have the midnight body of a crescent moon. It is marked with the colors of darkness, and said to have created death and night. Its eyes can turn creatures to stone out of fear. It is a fallen beast, supposedly the product of jealousy. Before its fall, Lunala worked in tandem with Solgaleo, the author of life. However, the pokemon grew angry with humans for their tendency to worship only the Sun and the Stars. When humans fell away from worship of legendary pokemon all together, Lunala wanted to repossess them and take over the firmament. As the myth goes, this led him to betray Solgaleo and Arceus, and an imbalance of power ensued, causing a near extinction of the entire human race. Details are unclear. Dialga, Palkia, and Giratina were created to restore the cavity of power. However, the myth makes it clear that such a replacement was, and is, temporary. See prophetic scroll for more details on the myth. The rest of this book is devoted to the history of such findings."_

"Of course," Misty sighed, "why must there always be a prophetic scroll involved? You would think everyone back then kept scrolls in their back pocket."

"We need to find it," Oak announced, flipping to the index to see if the scroll is given a name.

"Anything?" Tracy asked, and the old man nodded.

The professor looked down one of the halls and began pacing quickly down the corridor, the old book still open in his hand. His breath hitched up when he came to a shelf, filled only with ancient scrolls and loos papers. He let out a shaky sigh, knowing that it could take forever to filter through this mess.

"It looks ransacked," Misty observed, "do you think someone has been here?"

Professor Oak looked at her; she had a good point.

Just as he was about to respond, he noticed one single scroll tossed far from the shelf. He walked to it. He picked it up and examined the loose paper. He noticed that parts of it had been burned, and that a struggle took place for some of it was ripped at the edges.

Oak began to unravel it with the greatest care, and found that it was short, with most of it completely destroyed by fire. Only the beginning was in tact.

" _And the Dark will return_

 _as the night follows us all._

 _He will walk the earth and lure new souls in to his mouth_

 _He will build up an army of darkness_

 _He will turn the firmament to stone_

 _He will se the face of the Sun and declare war anew_

 _He will choose a servant from the light_

 _He will choose a servant from the dark_

 _He will seek to destroy—_

 _[words too faded to read]_

 _the death of one will bring life to all,_

 _the chosen will choose sacrifice_

 _and the sacrificed will breath life again._

 _Let the Sun come through his elect,_

 _Let the elect die for the sake of the Sun_

 _Let the elect die to bring the Sun to earth."_

* * *

That night, when Serena had fallen asleep by the lake, Ash carried her back to the cabin until he gently placed her back in the bed. He had all the intention of letting her sleep, but she grabbed his hand before he could walk away. She weakly pulled him back to her, her blue eyes bright with moonlight and wide awake in the dark.

"Kiss me," she breathed, and guiding Ash's hand on to the nook of her neck, the gentle slope below her ear.

Ash shook his head, but did not pull away. His thumb drawing circles beneath her hair.

Serena pulled his face down, bringing her cheek, as soft as the petal of a flower, against his until her lips met his ear.

"Kiss me," she whispered again, and began tracing her mouth across his jaw. Her movements were tantalizing, and slow, and Ash lost himself in her once again.

He fell on to her.

His lips everywhere at once. He was the desert wander, and she was the water to his parched soul. Each kiss felt like a reconciliation—the darkness pooling out of him, draining his burden of shadows from the trellis of his teeth—and he felt as light as a bird, soaring above her lips.

He could feel himself smiling.

His heart felt so light he could laugh, and Serena didn't stop. She kissed the darkness away, taking it in to herself—a final communion.

Farther in to the night, he could feel the pieces of light break apart the dark in him; they were the shards of sunlight he had tried to suppress and forget that he owned—the same fragments she had given to him the first time. They returned now, more brilliant in strength, and Ash could not ignore them. They were the anchors that had prevented him from falling completely in to the night, and now she called them back out to break his chains.

And when the grip on his soul broke upon the moment of their reunion, when Serena took him in to her and loved the fear away, somewhere far off Lunala screamed.

* * *

 _We have reached the climax people. R &R_


	16. Chapter 15

_Hello there. Sorry I've been MIA. I was moving this past week and things just got a little crazy and busy. However, here is the next chapter. We're beginning a smaller Arc, that will take us more in to the actual war side of things, but as most of you can somewhat tell, we're nearing the end. Don't get me wrong, I'd still say we have at least six or seven more chapters to go, but we're definitely more than halfway there._

 _At the end of this chapter, there will be a brief rundown as to where all our characters are, seeing as everyone is beginning to spread out a bit. However, they'll be coming back together sooner than you think, and back where it all began._

* * *

 _ **Chapter 15**_

Meyer, also known as Blaziken mask, ran through the debris that was Lumoise city beneath his thick boots. Through his mask, he saw nothing but smoke rising from the fires finally dying against the asphalt. He drew his cape before his mouth, trying not to breathe in the fumes. He came to an intersection, looked both ways. He took off to the right and disappeared in to pools of shadows spilling over the city like residue from the moonlight. He jumped from one darkness to another, hiding from the dark trainers haunting the city, moaning like zombies.

Like the other survivors in the city, Meyer did not know what was happening or why. He only knew that whatever was moving in to the city, it was dark and it was powerful. By now, most have realized that this disaster did not occur by any natural cause. The region was under siege. All connection and communication to the outside world, lost; blocked out by a powerful force that did not allow the emission of a single signal.

Before the entire region fell, Meyer had contacted the other gym leaders and Diantha. They met at Lumoise to begin organization massive plans of evacuation, but they had only managed to emigrate thirty-seven percent of the population before the swarms came. Now, the survivors hid in underground basements and tunnels beneath the city, built in case of emergencies such as these. However, Meyer had to be honest—he never thought he would live to see a situation such as this.

He sped towards an abandoned Pokemart, charred and crumbling under the ash. Meyer peered around the corner of the building before moving in to the shattered glass door. He took out a sack and with one arm hugged an entire row of potions in to his bag. He grabbed full heals, waters, anything that would fit and tied the sack up and slung it over his shoulder.

However, Meyer was looking for something specific. He needed a stone—any stone—with which to act as a conductor for a satellite transmission he and Diantha were trying to build, one that would be able to send out codes in order to make contact with other regions. He looked through the rubble but found nothing. He knew of only one other store that would have sold what he needed, but it was in the worst part of town. He didn't like the idea of having to go there.

Meyer began to make his leave when he heard a sound coming from the door.

He froze.

He dove behind one of the aisles and did his best to avoid the broken poke balls on the floor. He crouched and waited.

After a few minutes, he lifted his eyes above the small half-wall and saw nothing but moonlight against the door. He began to straighten up.

Just as he was about to make his move out the door, Meyer heard something smack his head and shatter.

He fell to the floor, unconscious.

 _xxxxx_

Clemont rode behind Akoni Akela as they neared the dark clouds around Kalos. Their small team consisted of only six other trainers, and they flew in clusters of two towards the center of the region from where the air grew cold and dead. Clemont tried not to look down from their Pigeot to where the sky became a sea of dark clouds, seemingly impenetrable. It rumbled with what sounded like thunder, but Clemont knew that it had to be more than just that. He shivered at the thought of a thousand dark pokemon, jaws open, waiting for their small team to dive in to the void. Their welcome would be anything but friendly.

He hoped Bonnie would be okay. Clemont felt bad not having said goodbye to her, but he felt as though she had been avoiding him since they last talked. For the first time, Clemont even felt grateful for Kaleb. He knew that boy would take care of her, and Clemont needed that comfort. Clemont knew that every decision he made was chosen out of concern and protection for Bonnie and he could live with that. He just had to make sure he made it home.

"There's no way of knowing what we're going to find," Akoni shouted over the blistering winds circling their head, pulling at their clothes. "We are first going to check the underground tunnels. Any ranger we sent would know about those passages in case of emergency."

"What tunnels?" Clemont asked, bemused.

"Exactly," Akonu Akela smiled and nodded over to the men flying on a Dragonite beside them. "Are we ready, Tarik?"

The Purehearted soldier nodded, his dark eyes only made more intense by the sea of his dark skin. Tarik took out another pokemon, a Goodra, and the two dragons created a mist that shielded their team in a dark cloud made gray by Goodra's rain dance. They blended in with the dusk sea of nightfall below, floating in from the edges of their enemy's fog.

Clemont instinctively closed his eyes as the darkness met them. He expected to be slammed by a thick, visceral entity but they cut through the storm like a bullet. The Pigeot flapped its wings in a powerful rhythm, propelling them further in to the heart of the city. Within minutes they were flying over the destruction eating away at the buildings. Clemont felt his breath leave him at the sight of the wreckage.

Street lamps and cobbled streets were turned over like wooden chips, everything was splintered, jagged and torn from explosions or earthquakes. Smoke billowed out of buildings that were still on fire, the cement slowly being eating by ash. It was, Clemont thought, an apocalyptic nightmare. He couldn't imagine anyone surviving this.

"Hold on," Akoni said, and they dove straight for the outskirts of the city, to the north entrance that offered shelter from clear view.

They landed with a silent rush of wind, and immediately their pokemon were returned before the mist dissipated. Akoni grabbed the back of Clemont's shirt, and led him to behind one of the fallen skyscrapers, lying shattered on its side. They crouched low in the debris until the rubble came up to their ankles. Akoni signaled to Tarik to come closer, but quietly. This part of the city was already too silent for comfort. There only sounds they could hear were the creaking of the ruins, and soft flames chewing away at the plaster.

"Have you located the nearest tunnel?" Akoni asked, trying to activate his pokenav, but every signal was blocked.

"It's right beside the gym,"

"That's near the center of town," Clemont muttered.

"Well, we could go there or steer a bit farther to the bike shop," Tarik explained. Like most cities, he knew Lumoise like the back of his hand from much experience with high risk missions.

Akoni nodded, agreeing with the ladder of the options. "There's likely to be less activity there."

"What should we do if we get split up?" Tarik asked, beating the side of his transmission, "we have no way of contacting each other out here. It's a dead zone."

"If we get split up we meet underneath the gym," Akoni said, "and wait there for no more than forty-five minutes. You can assume anyone who doesn't show up is dead."

"Wonderful," Tarik smirked.

"Alright, men," Akoni grinned, drawing out a pistol from his belt and handing one to Clemont, "time to go."

* * *

 _Safron City, Kanto_

"What do you _mean_ we can't see the chief of staff?" Oak demanded as he, Tracy, and Misty just outside the Officer's Bureau on the seventh floor of the Capital Building. The entire wall behind the secretary was made of glass, offering a beautiful view of Kanto, stretching all the way out to the grey dots of Vermillion to the southern sea.

However, Oak was not interested in a view at this point.

"Have you told her that we have information about the Kalos and Johto invasions? About the swarm?" he reiterated, hoping to change some sort of outcome.

"Look, sir," began the young secretary in a monotone voice, "Chief Officer Jenny is currently in a meeting with all the regional officers."

"Well that's perfect, because we have information that could help _all_ of them!" Misty exclaimed, taking over for the soft-spoken professor.

"She strictly asked that no one should come in and out of those doors until the meeting has concurred,"

"And when will that be?" the red-head sneered, looking tall and menacing from the other side of the desk.

"I-I," the secretary stammered, growing intimidated underneath Misty's fiery stare, "it could be hours? She has to catch a flight later this evening, so—"

"That's it, we're going in," Misty muttered, marching to the wooden double-doors despite protests from both sides.

She flung the polished doors wide open in to a huge meeting room surrounded by glass walls and filled with rows if seats, in which every officer Jenny in the region sat listening to a panel of recognizable international champions. Misty immediately identified Lance, Wallace, and Steven all sharing thoughts about the oncoming threat while the officer listened and took notes. Even the chief officer Jenny, decorated in a more medals and sashed, was quiet.

However, as soon as Misty barged in to the rooms, every single eyes turned to her and the others. Oak was standing with his jaw moving up and down, Tracy looked white, and the secretary knew she was more than fired after this.

"Professor Oak?" came a voice from the panel, from the tall darkly dressed blonde. Her eyes flashed at the sight of their visitors.

"Cynthia, how good to see you!" Oak looked relieved and entered the room casually, "I must ask what brings you, and this impressive congregation, together?"

"Clara, didn't I specifically say that _no_ visitors were to—,"

Cynthia cut the chief officer off with the wave of a hand. "It's fine, Jenny, in fact we probably should have extended the invitation to the famous Professor Oak, our mistake."

Chief Officer Jenny looked as though she were about to say more, but instead opted to nod and dismissed the secretary to bring their new arrivals some seats.

"What a lovely surprise," Cynthia smiled, regarding her old mentor and friend from across the room, "I'm sure Rowan sends his regards?"

"If he knew I'd be seeing you, I'm sure he would have," Professor Oak nodded and began walking to the front to where the secretary, Clara, guided them to a few empty seats near the panel.

"Ah," said the professor as he sat down, feeling relieved by the much needed rest on his legs, "so what did I miss?"

Cynthia smirked, her hair whipping through the air as she turned their attention abruptly to the large screen being projected against the wall behind the panel. The projection was of the Alpha Continent, and the movements of the swarms from Johto to Kanto marked in black.

"I'm sure you've heard about this devastation?" Lance ruffed from his seat, scratching his red beard.

"We've been spending hours figuring out what to do about it," Cynthia explained, "as of twelve hours ago, the swarm has begun moving again. As you can see, part of it—like a huge storm—is on its way to Kanto. We know Kalos and Johto have been consumed without any sort of contact from the inside. Sinnoh is being hit as we speak. We have so many questions."

"And let me tell you, Cynthia," Professor Oak announced, drawing out an old book and a scroll from his bag, "I believe I can help you answer them."

"Ah yes," Steven, another former champion, said as he noted the materials intellectually, "what are those, exactly?"

"The answers, of course," Oak suggested and unrolled the scroll in front of the panel, "this is no unorthodox swarm of pokemon, I'm afraid. It's much much worse."

"What is it then?" Lance asked, "Some sort of army?"

Oak looked at him and nodded. "Actually, yes. It is."

 _xxxxx_

"You're telling me that those pokemon are being controlled," Cynthia began after being briefed on what the professor and the other two found in the archives, "by an ancient moon pokemon in order to form some sort of 'army of darkness,' that is designed to destroy another ancient pokemon, that has yet to show its face?"

"Well, technically both pokemon have yet to be revealed," Tracy pointed out, earning him a hard stare from Misty, "but one has definitely been more active."

"This is ridiculous," Lance scoffed, pushing the papers away from him him.

"Is it, though?" Steven began looking over the book, reading the contents Oak noted, "when have we ever understood legendary pokemon? How many times have we underestimated them?"

"I'm saying its ridiculous for a pokemon to have that much power," Lance clarified, gritting his teeth, "not even Entei can summon an army of brainwashed minions. This cannot be real."

"If these pokemon, as the legend says, created the universe, man, and the soul," Professor Oak said, pointing to a picture of Lunala, Arceus, and Solgaleo, "then I'm willing to believe in anything at this point."

"And we can't disregard that the movements of this swarm are much too organized to be a random horde," Wallace added, speaking up for the first time after spending much of the conversation in thought.

"Not only that, but Sinnoh is reporting that trainers are fighting beside the pokemon," Cynthia added, folding her arms in front of her chest and leaning back in her seat, "this is clearly an offensive aggression, but we can't know for sure if it all has to do with some legend."

"True," Oak agreed, "but as you have all concluded by now, we can affirm that this is too powerful to be the product of any human organization, too organized to be a wild swarm, and too dangerous to fight alone."

"Well," Steven said, looking up and down the panel, "then what's our plan? By all accounts, we're at war without an army."

Cynthia chewed her lip. She turned to stare at the map behind her, tracing the edges of Sinnoh with her fingers.

"I suppose that if we are in need of an army," she began, pulling her hand away to stare at her fingertips, as though the residue of her home would be seen lingering on her skin, "it's about time we form one."

* * *

Akoni, Clemont, Tarik, and the rest of their team descended in to darkness of the underground tunnel, which was accessed through the floor of the bike shop by removing the tiles behind the ruined counter. Clemont thought it a miracle that the building was more or less in tact, only the roof had collapsed inward slightly due to the weight of the debris from the neighboring buildings. The bikes, however, had all been stolen or destroyed, and Mr. Subert—whom Clemont had known since purchasing a bike himself from the man—was nowhere to be seen, and still the young blonde felt an odd sense of guilt for waltzing in to the shop when the "closed" sign hung lopsided from one chain before the shattered front door.

There was a ladder that led down in to the earth, but the other end was veiled in a thick blackness that looked almost visceral to the touch. Clemont felt his will pull away from the cool air shooting up from the tunnel, but Akoni went in without hesitation. He reached the bottom more quickly than Clemont expected and lit a mechanical torch. Clemont squinted, curious by the technology, but it seemed to be a retractable rod of metal with a gasoline feeder at the tip. It gave a bright fire, one that comforted Clemont enough to follow Akoni's lead.

Clemont had to jump from a few feet to the floor, for the bottom part of the ladder was missing. He landed awkwardly, but wobbled in to balance and adjusted his backpack. He watched the others descend, and Tarik, who was last, placed the tile back over their heads.

The darkness covered them. Only two other men had touches, the rest loaded their slim chrome pistols and waited for Akoni's lead.

"Cock your pistol, Clemont," said the Alolan, his voice in an unusual state of seriousness, "who knows what in Arceus we're going to find down here."

With shaky hands, Clemont reached for the gun at his belt. He loaded up a full magazine, and slammed the pistol shut.

 _xxxxx_

Meyer woke up and found himself bound at his wrists and his ankles and seven feet away from a crude fire ignited from various chunks of plaster and cement. His mouth was gagged. He tried not to move, but managed to quietly lift his head and look around.

There were at least six "rogues"—what he and the survivors called the brainwashed trainers—three Mightyenas, and four Houndooms snarling at one another over some sort of bone on the ground. Meyer didn't want to know where it came from.

The rogues were all staring in to the fire, their faces dead as he had always seen them—starving and turning to bone. They muttered things to themselves every now and then, but didn't move much. They would sometimes turn to their pokemon just to watch them fight, and then slump forward as though to sleep with their eyes open. Meyer hadn't seen anything more devastating in his entire life. He prayed the Clemont and Bonnie were safe, he couldn't imagine seeing his children in such a state.

"What to do, what to do with you," chanted one of the rogues, a young woman with witch-like hair and dead eyes. She was looking at him without seeing. Her bony fingers combed themselves through her hair like a schizophrenic, and she was baring her teeth at him, her tongue moving wildly between her lips.

"He is _my_ prisoner," said a rogue that might have been middle-aged, but with the state of his current body he now appeared ancient. "He must be taken to the master."

"The master," said the woman rogue, crawling up to Meyer's face, her breath wreaked like the bodies they burned on the streets, "is not here."

The other rogue kicked her in the stomach and she recoiled, crawling back weakly to the fire.

"The master is coming," said the older man as he sat on a block of cement next to Meyer, "the master will make him one of us."

Meyer could feel tears moving down along his face from fear. His body was shaking and he had trouble breathing from his nose. He wondered who their master was, if he would be coming to the city. He wondered how he would get out of this mess.

 _xxxxx_

Lunala landed in Lumoise City in the form of Gary Oak just before dusk claimed the remnants of light fading behind columns smoke that funneled up in to the sky, obscuring the city in an opaque matte atmosphere. He moved deftly through the rubble, his eyes still inked in that obsidian black. He sneered at the sight of his army, huddled and muttering to themselves before fires. He turned over blocks of cement, extinguishing the flames, and hissed.

"Get up, you fools," he said in a voice that did not belong to the boy he possessed, "fly east, follow the rest to Kanto,"

The creatures moaned. They got up and called upon pokemon to begin their move.

Gary looked frantic and nervous. He kicked those who did not move fast enough and hurled insults at the weak. One man, he took to beating until both legs of the soldier's legs had broken. There was no time, and no unit to waste. The swarm in Kanto would be met with fierce opposition, and with Ash no where to be found, the darkness grew uneasy.

"Master, I have a prisoner," coughed one man, dragging a large bound body behind him, "may I find favor with you."

"Out of the way," Gary growled and pushed the soldier to the ground. He looked at the broad-shouldered man shaking on the floor, covered in dust. The man looked strong and more than suitable for use. Gary bent down and lifted the man's head up by the hair, ripping the gag out of his mouth, "you could be useful,"

The man began spitting and hurled curses towards Gary. "You're nothing but a boy, how could you do this!?"

Gary smiled wolfishly. "I'm nothing but a boy, you say?"

Two huge wings, as black as the dead voids in space, erupted from Gary's back. They looked like those of a bat, with claws at the top and jagged flesh webbing the black skin in to the lines of bone.

"I'm the eater of souls, don't you know?" Lunala grinned and his face was revealed to the man but for a moment.

"Let the man go, Lunala," shouted an all too familiar voice from across the rubble.

Lunala reverted back in to his human host and kept a cool smirk as he turned to face Drifter and Brock

"You are becoming a nuisance," Lunala said, his arms crossed in front of his black shirt, "when will you just die?"

"Not until I've seen your head hanging from a tendon," the prophet said, drawing a bright sword from his belt. "Let the man go, and while you're at it, free Gary as well,"

"But I am Gary?" Lunala scoffed, using Gary's voice to further perturb the two, "I chose this. I'm more powerful than death."

When Drifter only narrowed his glare, Lunala shrugged, his voice returning.

"It's no use. The boy who once lived in this body is as good as dead. And as much as I would love to sit and chat about it, I have an army to lead," Lunala drew his sword, black like color of his wings, which reappeared in a more visceral form. "Let's make this quick, shall we?"

 _xxxxx_

Clemont stopped. He looked up and down the tunnels, but nothing could be seen save for their team. There was not a soul besides their own here in the dark, yet Clemont thought he hear something.

"What is it?" Akoni waited as the young man's mind returned to his eyes, brightening in the torch light.

"I thought I heard something coming from the walls," Clemont said, placing a hand on the old metal that lined the tunnel on both sides. He could feel it vibrating, like a pulse coming from the earth. "Does the tunnel lead left at all?"

"It leads everywhere," Tarik scoffed, "this thing is one giant maze."

"We should go left."

"Actually," came an unfamiliar voice from the dark. Akoni whirled around and illuminated an obscure group of survivors, about seven of them, holding Akoni's team at gunpoint with semi-automatic rifles, "I think you should halt."

Akoni lifted his hands in a form of surrender, "We mean no harm. We're rangers sent by the Purehearted, an army specifically mobilized to fight we what has taken over your city."

"Well good luck with that," the voice said, lowering her weapon, "it's alright, men, there're not rogues."

"Rogues?" Tarik questioned.

"Rogue trainers is what we call those zombies upstairs," said the woman, her light eyes made bright by the fire, "and obviously, you are all too sound of mind to be one of them—well in the important ways."

Clemont stepped forward to get a better look at their captors.

"Clemont?"

The young blonde looked harder beneath the dim light and recognized the leader of the survivors. "Diantha? How did you get here?" Clemont was dumbfounded and relived and amazed.

"I should ask you the same thing," she said slowly, "how did you end up playing war with a bunch of Alolans? What are you all doing here anyway?"

"We've been sent to locate your position," Akoni announced with a grin, quite amused by the situation, "we're looking for survivors. How many of you are left?"

"There's no way of knowing," Diantha said, still reserved out of suspicion, "but there are seventy-five of us stuck here under Lumoise, but all the air signals are blocked around here. And if you haven't noticed, the city is crawling with rogues."

"My dad," Clemont blurted, dazed and growing a little desperate, "have you seen my dad?"

Diantha went silent. She shifted her gun to her hip and ran her pale fingers through her dark hair.

"Your dad has gone missing as of eight hours and twenty-seven minutes ago. We were actually going out to look for him. He was helping us build a transmission that could break through this dead zone…we need him alive," Diantha explained, but looked gratefully at Clemont, "it's good to see you. Your father would be relieved to know you're alright."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Clemont asked, looking from Akoni to Diantha, "Let's go after him."

He couldn't let this chance go. He had come all this way, and for what? To just barely miss his father's death? No. They would find him.

"Clemont, there's—,"

Diantha cut the Alolan off, "Why not? You've been sent here to help us, then help. If we get this transmission built, we'll be able to contact other survivors around the region as well as warn the others what their up against. We're not blind. We know we're in some sort of war. Communication is our greatest asset."

Akoni Akela looked at her a moment. He eventually shrugged, much to Tarik's dismay.

"She's right," Akoni said, turning to his team with one of his brilliant grins, "perfect timing, I'll say."

* * *

 _So we have Clemont and Akoni in Kalos,_

 _Drifter and Brock pursuing Gary, which has landed them in Kalos,_

 _Bonnie and Kaleb on the search for Serena,_

 _Misty, Tracy, and Oak in Kanto preparing the region for war, however they are still left in the dark concerning Ash's involvement. They know Brock and Gary are involved somehow, but it has yet to be revealed to them._

 _Meyer is Clemont's father (just so we're clear, he's even in the anime)_

 _Next chapter we will see what Ash and Serena, as well as Bonnie and Kaleb, have been up to. We will also see more of the tide shift from Kalos to Kanto._

 _And yes, Pikachu will be in the next chapter. Don't worry about that ;)_


	17. Chapter 16

_I've had the first part of this chapter written for AGES now. It was actually one of the first scenes that came in to my head before the story fully developed. I'm mostly referencing the scene pertaining to Ash and Serena. First we have a flashback, which was also written during the early conceptions of the story, and I finally bring it up now because, as the story continues, we need to layer on some complexities to the concepts introduced way back at the beginning of this story._

 _Don't think I forget things so easily ;)_

 _My goal is to leave nothing undone. Everything that was mentioned in this story, will (or should) eventually be answered._

 _Anyway, this chapter has to be one of my favorites so far, mostly because of the anticipation I've had to endure before finally being able to use these scenes, but also because its the beginning of what I'll call "the tying of everything together."_

 _Do enjoy, and thank you for all of your reviews! As you know I find them so encouraging to continue. And I love hearing what you all have to say._

* * *

 _ **Chapter 16**_

* * *

 _4 years ago…_

"Kalon is an ancient language," Drifter explained to Ash during one of their studies, under a thatched roof creaking within the torrents of wind bellowing from the storm along the Alolan shore.

Akoni sat in a desk farther back in the living room, reading and sending letters under the lamplight, but he looked up and the mentioning of Kalon. He set his pen aside and leaned back in his chair, folding his dark arms behind his head.

"Why in the world are you teaching the boy Kalon?" Akoni asked, hiding his concern under a mask of amusement. He regarded Ash with a wary sense of distrust.

Drifter placed a piece of paper and a pen upon the bamboo table where Ash sat facing the window and the storm rolling in from the sea.

"I'm not teaching it to him," the prophet explained, watching Ash tense under both of their steadfast gazes, "he's already been acquainted with it, but does not know the meaning or power of the words. Lunala sometimes speaks to you in the language, does he not?"

Ash hesitated. He looked over at Akoni, who now appeared intrigued more than anything, and then nodded.

"I can't explain it," said the boy, "he speaks to me and I feel as though I'm caught under some spell, as though the words penetrate me and make me want things I've never wanted before...At times I feel as though I can understand it. Every word."

Drifter looked up at Akoni. The two exchanged grave glances.

"Kalon was the language of a warrior, back in the day when the term 'trainer' did not exist," Drifter continued, pacing back and forth before the table, "before pokeballs, how did one catch pokemon? Well, warriors would succumb them and then speak to them in this language. Kalon was, in fact, known as a sort of sorcery. It bound warriors to pokemon and pokemon to warriors with what they called 'spells.' Now, there were many different forms of spells. There were ones that influence or bound—Covenant Spells, which Warriors would use to persuade Pokemon to belong to them—but there were also spells that bewitched known as Slave Spells. Spells that bewitched were seen as an outright offense to any true warrior who respected and valued the life of a pokemon."

Ash absorbed this information, fascinated. "So I'm assuming there were also spells for healing, for strengthening, for special abilities, just as there are potions for that today?"

"Precisely," Drifter offered a small smile towards Ash's observation, "there were even spells for release, for once a warrior and a Pokemon decided it was time to part ways, they would have to undo their covenant some way or another. Warriors back then couldn't generally make covenants with more than six Pokemon. A warrior's power would weaken with each capture, the energy dedicated to one Pokemon could not be shared, thus covenants were not usually permanent, but friendships with the Pokemon they captured could be."

"And were there different covenant spells?" Ash asked, imagining himself as a warrior in the ancient world, "For stronger Pokemon, that is, would they use different capture spells?"

Drifter nodded, but he was beginning to scratch his white beard thoughtfully.

"Yes," he said, and sat down at a seat across from Ash at the table, "just as there are now a variety of pokeballs, there were a variety of spells, some even catered to different types of Pokemon. The strongest warriors knew the language the best, and could have dozens of Pokemon at their command. Some could even cast spells on legendary Pokemon. But some legendary Pokemon could cast spells on humans."

Ash looked down at the blank paper before him. His hand began to tremble ever so slightly.

"You mean Lunala?" The boy furrowed his brows and began feel a slow anger building within him.

"Lunala is one of the few who use it, yes," Drifter confirmed, his long fingers drumming the table, "but Lunala is a fallen legendary with no honor. He only casts slave spells. Solgaleo and Arceus—even Entei and Rayquaza—offer covenant spells to humans that wish to serve them. They respect and honor those who wish otherwise."

The house moaned from its wooden skeleton, a small leak seeped in to the thatched roof, and Akoni sped away to find a bucket with which to catch the water.

"So how do I stop it? How do I stop the spell?" Ash asked, ready to learn how to fight the nightmares in his mind, "I want to learn the language. I want to learn it all."

Drifter looked reluctant. "You only need enough to know how to break free from the spell Lunala is casting on you. You only need to learn resistance spells,"

"I want to learn it all," Ash repeated, determination set as a fire within his amber gaze, "I want to destroy him,"

"That's not your job," Drifter said, his voice rising sternly above the rain pouring outside, "you will learn what I teach you."

Ash threw Drifter a dark look, restraining the fury behind the color with difficult discipline. He uncapped the pen and began to tap it against the blank sheet before him.

"Here," Akoni said, coming up from behind Ash with a small leather-bound journal. He offered it to the boy with a wide grin, "use this. It'll keep your notes organized."

Ash looked at the journal and took it with mild gratitude. He nodded his thanks and began flipping through the yellowing pages.

"I want you to write what you most love," Drifter said, and when Ash looked up with surprise, the the prophet explained, "I will teach you the words in Kalon, I will teach you how to express love in the most powerful language there is."

Ash grew confused, mixed sentiments, like rivers, running all over his countenance.

Drifter's eyes brightened then, the blue becoming visceral pools of crystal.

"How do you defeat the forces of evil? How do we fight against the dark?" Akoni clasped Ash's shoulder in a firm grip, grinning broadly as he jumped in, "With love me' boy! Aye, the stories have all told us so! We fight with what is eternal, and we fight with love."

* * *

 _xxxxx_

* * *

 _present day…_

The memory returned to Ash as he laid in bed with the very thing he loved most; with the girl. He inhaled the scent of her hair, the gold silk sprawled across his chest while her head rested in the nook of his neck. He played with the thick locks, twirling them between his fingers, the way he'd always wanted to do since the moment he fell in love with her; feeling the hair—as soft as the skin on her lips—kiss his hands.

As the sunlight poured in, growing stronger as the sun rose through the late morning, Ash felt Serena begin to stir. Her hand, delicate and fine as glass, moved across his bare chest. He took hold of it and guided her fingers to his lips, kissing each tip as she outlined his mouth with her touch.

"Good morning,"

Ash looked down at her, her blue eyes brilliant against the sunlight hitting her cheek.

"You're still here," Serena sighed, closing her eyes. He felt her press against him, her arm moving around his waist to keep him close.

They stayed there in the silence. Nothing but the birds outside and the breeze, filtered sound in to the small cabin. Ash's eyes wandered the ceiling, meditating on the peace he had not felt in years. Nothing called out to him from the dark. He knew this couldn't be a dream, for when he slept he only had nightmares. This was no nightmare.

He looked back down at Serena, and grinned. He flipped her over and began placing kisses all over her jaw, working his way down her neck and her breasts. He heard her begin to giggle, calling out his name in a half-hearted attempt to stop him.

When he moved farther down, his lips on her stomach, he froze.

The wound. The dark flesh of her abdomen. The color refused to recede. Instead, the inky, black veins seemed to grow darker against her pale complexion.

"What's wrong?" Serena asked when he stopped.

Before she could look down to see what concerned him, Ash brought his lips back up to hers, tasting her slowly and deeply. He didn't want to distress her, especially since she appeared to be fine. He wondered if perhaps it was only a scar. Perhaps it was only there to remind him of what happened; of the dark that still existed.

"Let's run away together," Ash said, suddenly, and the idea sounded like a wonder to him.

Serena didn't respond. She looked at him as though she didn't understand.

"Let's run away," Ash repeated, growing more excited at the thought of him and Serena alone together, forever. He almost couldn't contain the joy at the sudden prospect. "We could leave all this. We could forget about the past and start a new life together. The one we always dreamed of!"

He jumped up from the bed and began throwing on clothes. He pulled out some old bags from the closet and started to pack.

"Ash..." Serena didn't know what to say, "Ash, wait."

"I'm free Serena," Ash beamed, the child in him returning like a prodigal son, "I don't hear anything in my head! There are no more lies. We can run away together now,"

"Ash, stop—,"

He moved out of the bedroom, plundering the pantry, bagging berries and bread in sackcloth. He returned to the room and continued his rummaging.

"Ash," Serena said, but he ignored her in his excitement, "Ash!"

Still he moved around the room, frantic.

" _Ash, I am not running away with you_!"

A halt. Still fragments of time formed and shattered. Ash turned around to see if she was being serious.

"What?" He shook his head, his arms full of shirts and socks, "But...I love you. You love me too, right? Last night..."

"Ash," Serena's eyes began to break, her tears pushing their way through the cracks, "we can't leave our friends...there's a war—,"

"I know there's a war," Ash snapped, trying to contain the blazing in his eyes, "you think I'm stupid, now? You think I don't know very well what's going on out there?"

Serena gasped, her own eyes now brimming with fire.

"You think just because I love, that I'm willing to let my friends—our friends—die while we ride off in to the sunset together?" Serena ripped the sheets off of her and grabbed her old and tattered clothes, "I don't think so, Ash Ketchum. And what are you going to do? Now that you're free, you're just going to run away from it all? Is that how you're going to treat the past?"

Ash stood there, his fists clenched at his sides. "You don't know what I've been through,"

Serena marched forward and slapped him hard across the face. "What _you've_ been though?" she shook her head, absolute disbelief shocking it's way on to her face, "I can't _believe_ you. What about what I've been through—what Brock, Clemont, your own mother—what about _everyone_ who's ever loved you. You're just going to let them die, because you're scared?"

She stumbled as she slipped in to her bloody dress and leggings. Ash caught her by the arm before she could fall, but she pushed him away.

"What happened to never giving up?" Serena shouted at him, now storming off in to the living room to find her pokeballs, "what happened to never giving up?!"

"You don't know what Lunala is capable of. Serena!" Ash grabbed her arm and made her face him, "I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose you again. He'll take you from me,"

He was begging now. He didn't care if he wept in front of her, he needed her to stay.

Serena's eyes softened, the anger dissipating in to anguish upon her lips, quivering at the corners of her mouth.

"I don't know who you are anymore," she whispered, her tears now falling freely as she touched his face one last time, "I love you, and I will always love you. But you are not the boy I fell in love with,"

She turned and ran. It took Ash a minute to process what happened. He stood there, staring at the door from which she left.

* * *

 _xxxxx_

* * *

 _16 years ago…_

Professor Oak was sitting in his office, writing letters to the committee of Interregional Science Studies, frustrated by the latest pokedex and its inability to record or replay any bestial sounds for the sake of study—which was his concern at the time—when a knock came from the door.

Already feeling much too overwhelmed by the amount of new responsibilities as chairman of such a committee, Oak had half a mind of feigning his absence from the laboratory. He considered not answering.

The knock on the door came again, only this time more violently.

Professor Oak groaned and leaned back in his chair to check the time. Outside, the night had drawn its thick shroud and the watch on his wrist read 9:27pm—much too late for his daughter to ask him to babysit Gary.

Feeling relieved by that thought, the professor went out of his office and in to the laboratory's foyer, which at the time was nothing more than a reception counter and a waiting area.

He searched the pockets of his lab coat for his keys, wondering if one of his employees had forgotten something. He couldn't imagine what else could be so urgent within the safe confines of Pallet Town, which was much too quiet most days for its own good.

Upon opening the door, Oak gasped.

Stepping out from the dark was a tall, white-haired man who looked no older than the professor, with vivid blue eyes and a stern expression that seemed to fall naturally on his features.

Professor Oak wasn't so disturbed by him as much he was by the bloodied man hanging from the white-haired stranger.

James Ketchum hadn't been seen in over two years, and the state of his departure was anything but friendly and natural. He had left Delia and their son with a string of insults, and curses, and vanished from all of his past relationships. No one, not even his own family had heard of his whereabouts. Oak would know. He and James had been as close as brothers.

"What happened to him?" Oak demanded as he led both men in to the back, shoving all the contents off a nearby desk, clearing it to let the stranger lower James on to the surface. "Who are you?"

"It's all bit complicated," the stranger said, stripping James to unwrap the crude bandages wrapped around his arms and chest, "do you have calamine, alcohol—anything to dress the wound?"

"He needs to see a medic," Oak said, but found himself rushing for the addressed objects, "we need to take him to a center."

"That," the stranger said, his blue eyes hard on the professor, "would be a mistake."

The two rushed to cut the old bandages, and blood poured out from the deep lacerations across James' chest. Oak pressed gauze against the skin to try and suppress the bleeding while the white-haired man prepared the necessary equipment to amend and stitch the skin.

James groaned and cried out as he was given a short of morphine right on his wound. He took hold of Professor Oak's shirt and forced him in close, his black eyes wild and barren.

"Make the voices stop," he growled, and Oak fought hard to take back his shirt from James' steely grip. The wounded man began to thrash on the desk.

"Hold him down!" the stranger ordered, and helped the professor nail James to the desk, the bleeding increasing under the stress. "I need to stitch up the wound of his chest, then we'll have to strap him down somewhere."

"NO," howled James, and then gave them to a distorted grin, "he's mine, Drifter, you're too late!"

Oak let go. Sheer fright on his face. That was not James' voice.

"Hold him down!" screamed the white-haired man—or Drifter—as he was just called, and the sheer authority with which he spoke forced the professor to obey. He held James down by the shoulders.

Drifter rummaged through the first aid box Oak had given him, and found a vial of tranquilizer. He ripped the cap off with his teeth and with a needle began to pull five counts of the anesthetic.

"That's for pokemon! What are you doing?" the professor growled, but Drifter flicked the vial to make sure he had drawn an even number.

"At this point, that man _is_ a pokemon," Drifter pointed the needle at James' neck, "keep holding him steady."

"He's too strong, Drifter," James' voice returned, gasping, and the professor watched Drifter pause, the needle centimeters away for James' skin. "He's too strong, I can't stop him."

His body began to convulse. Drifter was about to plunge the tranquilizer in to the seizing figure, but his hand was suddenly knocked away, the needle embedding itself in to Oak's arm.

"Dammit," Drifter muttered and was then kicked squarely in the chest by James, whose body looked as though it were stitching itself back up with black sinews drawing his skin back together.

Professor Oak began to stumble, letting go of James and falling to the floor. His vision becoming nothing but a blur haze of light.

"This isn't real…" the professor was muttering, as he collapsed on to the cold tile of the laboratory, his pulse racing in his ears, "this isn't real."

The last thing he saw before fainting were James' boots touching the ground, and drops of blood leaving a trail of dark spots as he walked away.

* * *

 _xxxxx_

* * *

 _present day…_

"This isn't real," Professor Oak gasped as the dream shocked him from his sleep. He shot out of bed and ran to the bathroom where he put his head under a sink.

He remembered the nightmare vividly, as though it were a memory…or had that actually happened? He couldn't remember, it had been so long ago.

Sixteen years ago…he recalled waking up after the incident. The blood was gone, wiped clean from the floor and the desks, and he was moved up against the wall, sleeping in a sitting position. He couldn't possibly have believed that such an event—James crazy and frantic and bleeding—had actually taken place. He had thought perhaps that he had fallen asleep on his way out of the lab…that it had all been a dream.

And now to dream it all again with perfect clarity and detail…Oak couldn't deny wondering if it had all, in fact, been real.

He looked up in to the mirror above the sink, the water running down his wrinkled face.

That morning he whipped out his pokegear and began to punch out numbers from the screen. He pressed the line to his hear and then heard a soft voice answer from the speak.

"Hello?"

"Delia," Professor Oak gasped, preparing himself to speak further, "we need to talk."

* * *

 _xxxxx_

* * *

Pikachu squeezed his way through the window in the bedroom after hearing shouts coming from inside the cabin. The struggle of forcing his small form in to the crack, left him out of breath, but he quickly looked around the room and saw the door to the living room left open.

He hesitated.

The small pokemon hadn't thought of having to confront his old trainer so soon, and had been watching the last few days roll back with a far-off mentality—unsure whether to treat the unfolding events as though they were real.

However, Pikachu's caution broke after following the young couple last night to the lake. He had seen Ash smiling as he led Serena in to the woods, and the girl hadn't been resisting. It had been curious. For so long, Pikachu was confused as to whether Serena was Ash's prisoner, that he had little time to react to the scene. The yellow rodent followed after them, in to the forest and back, and had peaked in to the window upon their return just in time to see Serena pull Ash on to her lips.

At that point, Pikachu had resolved to look away. It was more than perplexing.

This morning, he figured it would be the day he'd reveal themselves to the two, but in his own time. He hadn't been expecting a fight and now worried more for Serena's sake. Pikachu, though emotionally in turmoil at the sight of Ash, distrusted him, and called upon all its courage to confront his old trainer even now.

The small pokemon was called out of its thoughts by the slamming of a door. Instinctively, Pikachu scurried in to the living room to see what had happened and if he had missed his opportunity.

Serena had gone.

Pikachu shuddered. He found Ash on his knees, his eyes on the door, shimmering like the light on glassy water. The pokemon watched his old trainer's tears fall to the wooden floor, wincing with every drop.

The room seemed frozen behind an icy veil; Ash a glacier still in space.

As the minutes ticked by, Pikachu's courage began to build. All the years of hurt and anguish, fueled an insurmountable motive of strength, that the pokemon used now to fire up his cheeks.

The bolt came hard and fast.

Ash gave a sharp yelp and collapsed to the floor, his clothes charred. He whipped his head around to stare at Pikachu in shock and disbelief.

Overcome by the moment, Pikachu began to let its own tears loose, charging up another bolt of thunder which this time Ash absorbed in his hands, chanting what sounded like a spell. Pikachu fired its lightning again and again and again until it grew exhausted.

Ash caught or avoided each attack, his face as blank as a stone. When he saw that Pikachu had tired itself out, he began to crawl near to his old friend.

Pikachu recoiled, panting and sweating, but still alert on all fours.

Ash reached out his hand.

They stood there, facing each other, in a stalemate. Neither moving, nor breathing. There was nothing being said aloud, but the air was tense with the reconciliation struggling to breathe from underneath the pain that had been caused. It was like watching a body beating against a sheet of ice from the water underneath, the next breath all depending on whether or not the fight would break the wall.

Something did break.

"I'm sorry," Ash whispered, the outstretched hand beginning to shake and crumble.

What Pikachu did next was what any loyal friend would do. He forgave him. The pokemon jumped on to Ash's chest.

Ash held his old friend close to his heart, and cried in to Pikachu's yellow fur.

* * *

 _xxxxx_

* * *

 _Lumoise City, Kalos_

Diantha led the way back in to the ruins of the city. Clemont and Akoni stood close behind her, Tarik watched the group from the back. They came out trough the bike shop, and stopped short of the exit while Akoni went ahead with his pistol to clear the surrounding area before they moved along the city's outer core. But there stealthy stride came to a halt.

Akoni motioned for the others to join him outside quickly, and up in the sky he pointed to the army in motion; hordes of trainers and pokemon flying out of the city without a second glance behind them.

"What the hell is going on now?" Diantha muttered and everyone flinched at the sound of a huge explosion coming from the center of the city.

"Move!" Akoni shouted as a huge cloud of smoke began billowing towards them. They shielded themselves from the heat behind the ruins of a building.

Another explosion. The earth shook.

"Everything's being thrown back in to chaos," said one of Diantha's men.

"Should we turn back?" Akoni asked the fair skinned woman, who seemed to shine even amongst the debris.

"Absolutely not," she said, her head held high, "I'm _not_ going to be holed up underneath this godforsaken war ever again. We move forward."

Clemont never loved her as much as he did now. "We need to head for the gym. If Dad was looking for any sort of conductor, he had to have known about the lightning stones we keep for study."

Diantha nodded, and ducked underneath another eruption of debris unearthing itself from the force of the blasts.

"That means we're heading right for those explosions, doesn't it?" Akoni asked, shooting everyone another grin—vibrant against his dark skin—, "Excellent."

It didn't take long for them to round the block and travel down the street, though they still edged on cautiously. The streets were indeed emptying, but whatever was shaking the city at its core was dangerously loosening the rubble, causing large blocks of cement from the buildings still standing to fall.

"The building—!" Diantha called out over the fire blazing in the streets; over the debris breaking apart on the asphalt.

The five-story building was crumbling, collapsing right over their heads. The small group dispersed with shouts and yelps, shooting out walls in to the middle of the street. Even then some did not make it.

Tarik and two other Purehearted scouts were buried alive. Clemont would have been too had Akoni not yanked him at his pace. Everything became a cloud of smoke beneath an earth-shaking rumble. Clemont and the others coughed the smoke and soot out of their lungs, still blind by the smog.

Clemont noticed a large crack on the right lens of his glasses, but he could still see through them. He saw Akoni picking himself up from the ground, his brown skin now gray with ash and dust. The Alolan muttered a string of curses for the loosing three men, and called out to the others to make sure they were alright.

"We're fine," Diantha yelled back from somewhere within the cloud of soot still rising and falling from blow.

Clemont didn't know if he was seeing correctly, but as the smoke cleared away, a hazy vision of the city's center courtyard came in to view. Within it he saw Drifter and Brock, both wielding blades and pokemon at their sides. Opposite them, he saw Gary. With wings. And a cruel black sword that seemed to suck all the light around its blade.

"Solgaleo help us all," Akoni muttered, confirming the sight, dropping his pistol to the floor in shock and reaching to his belt for a pokeball.

Diantha squinted towards the scene, putting together the pieces regarding the explosions wrecking havoc in the city.

"What _is_ that," she muttered, her attention fixed on Gary's large, black wings.

"Well," Akoni said, this time not smiling, "I was wondering when things were going to get interesting."

* * *

 _And I hope you all find it interesting indeed._

 _I promise you'll see Bonnie and Kaleb next chapter; along with more of Serena, who is actually about to find herself in quite a pickle. Well honestly, they're all in a bit of a pickle aren't they?_

 _I know there's a lot of ambiguity regarding the role of Ash's father in all of this, but it's going to become more clear within the next chapters as to the influence he played on Ash's "turning." So things are taking a more complex turn, which is why, though the story might seem like its nearing its end, I think it still has a final arc to go. But I'm going to be honest, it's getting harder and harder to find the motivation to write...but I think I may be just going through a lazy season. Either way, I hope you guys liked it. Please review if you feel so inclined. I love all the encouragement :)_


	18. Chapter 17

_I know, I know. I'm sorry for the long update. My only excuse is that I was busy and without internet for a while. I'm currently living in Costa Rica right now, teaching English, and there's only so much reliability one can have towards the wifi in a developing country. Either way, this chapter is quite dramatic actually. But we are oh so close to working our way to the heart of the denouement! Everything is coming together and it's all rather exciting :D I will try not to let the next update take so long. But thank you for your patience readers!_

 _And thank you to all who reviewed. I'm very encouraged by your thoughts and comments._

* * *

 _ **Chapter 17**_

* * *

 _4 years ago…_

"What is this?" Ash asked. Drifter had pulled, from a loose plank out of the wood flooring in Akoni's hut, a thin silver hilt void of a blade. It felt light in Ash's hands, almost fragile. The chrome made the weapon look futuristic, and Ash looked for some sort of button as if he figured to turn the sword "on" in some way. He searched for a minute or so, but found nothing but a circular crater at the bottom of the pommel.

"It's a sword," Drifter said and Ash looked puzzled, holding up the empty hilt with a degree of irony.

"It looks very effective,"

"Of course it doesn't," Drifter gave his apprentice a wry smile while pulling out—what looked like—a small marble, with shades of blue and purple and green disappearing in to each other behind a symbol resembling a strand of DNA.

"A key stone," Ash identified the spherical object just before Drifter tossed it to him. He caught it and rolled it around in his palm, watching the shades of color change with the light.

Putting two and two together, Ash turned the hilt over until the pommel was facing up and embedded the jewel within the open crater.

The sword came to life with startling power. A long white blade, glowing within the dark dust-light retreating from the windows.

Ash held the hilt with both hands, waving the sword back and forth slowly, half-expecting to hear it hum, but it was as silent as any regular sword he'd seen in movies or TV.

"That sword used to be a Warrior's weapon of choice," Drifter announced, his eyes lightening up at the sight of the color of the blade. Ash has not lost yet. "It's a key-blade. It will change color based on the pokemon you call upon to stand beside you."

"I…," Ash didn't know what to say. He was mesmerized.

After a while of watching the sword, and swinging it lightly in his hands, he lowered the weapon and looked at Drifter.

"Are you giving this to me?"

"Yes," Drifter nodded, his expression turning stern again.

Ash looked at the blade and then back at his mentor. "Why?"

Drifter pulled out his hilt, attaching the key stone to the pommel, and a yellow blade appeared. He then brought his sword up with the intent to slash down at Ash, who blocked the attack by sheer instinct and adrenaline. The boy's eyes were wide, the blades inches away from his face, struggling to hold his block. Just as it looked as though his arms were going to crumble in to themselves, Drifter released the contact and Ash fell to the floor, sweating.

A few moments of stillness ensued. Ash continued panting heavily, his face contorted in to disbelief.

"When Lunala attacks, he will not be moving at half-speed," Drifter unfastened the stone from his sword and the blade disappeared, "nor at half-strength."

* * *

 _xxxxx_

* * *

 _present day…_

Between his wings, Lunala began forming another dark ball of energy. He shot it out towards Drifter and Brock, both of who were distracted by the sudden appearance of their comrades. They they barely managed to block the attack, cutting through it with both of their blades, leaving the explosion ignite the ground behind them. An explosion of dirt erupted from the earth and fall on to the backs of the two soldiers, who'd lost their footing in the tremor. They rolled away and on to their feet before Gary could strike them with his blade.

Brock watched Drifter whistled over to his Dragonite, which responded with a powerful dragon pulse, distracting Lunala. The prophet turned to Clemont and the others, shouting furiously.

"Get out of here! Get everyone out of the city and _go!_ "

Lunala hissed and with a huge wing, slapped the Dragonite in to a nearby building. He then turned back to Drifter, a shadow pulse forming at his mouth—black and beast like. When he released the attack, Brock quickly called for his Steelix to harden in front of Drifter, acting as a shield. Though the pulse was blocked, Steelix suffered a critical blow. It wobbled and then fainted in front of Gary's feet. Gary lifted his sword, as if to finish the pokemon, but Brock returned Steelix with haste and the blade hit the ground, creating another tremor. Brock then grew too frightened to risk the life of another pokemon.

He watched Drifter raise his sword and charged at Gary, meeting his blows head on in a rapid waves of fluidity. The swords—white clashing against black—rang beyond the fires and the flaling buildings. The colors of each blade followed the movements of both fighters, leaving trails of darkness and light, as though they could not keep up with the duel. Drifter spun, swinging his sword to strike Gary in the back, but the possessed young man dropped his own weapon behind his head and blocked the oncoming blow. He then countered with a spin to Drifter's legs, but the prophet jumped and the blade hissed through the air beneath him.

Dragonite rejoined the fighting, releasing another dragon pulse, which Gary absorbed with a hand and re-aimed at Drifter, who managed to bend backward and let the attack fly centimeters above his nose.

From the other side of the barren field, Meyer appeared in front of the gym. In his hand was a bright yellow stone, and it gleamed with reflected light all across the way to where it caught his son's eye.

Clemont looked and fell to his knees.

Meyer grinned and began running across the field, skirting towards the edges to avoid the attacks being thrown on both sides. Dragonite sped up the process, by grabbing Meyer's shirt with its talons and flying him safely over to the overs.

Father and son embraced.

Meyer grabbed on to Clemont's shoulders, shaking him as if to make sure his boy was real, "And your sister?"

Clemont, overwhelmed, grabbed his father by the neck and began to cry. "She's safe. She's safe."

"Incoming!" Akoni shouted, and everyone looked up in time to avoid a thick beam of dark matter lasering up and down the field. Buildings and earth crumbled and disappeared to ash. The edges of the grass glowed with trails of dark ember.

"Akoni!" Drifter screamed, knowing there was not much time. He could not keep this up, "Get everyone _out_!"

Brock joined the prophet in the next charge against Lunala, who seemed to block both of their blades with ease. He grinned and picked up speed, much to Brock's horror. However, everything soon became slow motion. Brock saw blades come at him, at all different angles, in slowed speeds, and he picked off each one, his determination fueling the veins in his arms and legs. His attacks grew powerful and sharp. The sinew in his muscles hardened in to steely tissue under the tension. He would not give up. He would not let his friends die.

Out from the corner of his eye, Brock saw Akoni moving everyone out of the area. Clemont looked back, hesitating.

* * *

 _xxxxx_

* * *

 _The Indigo Plateau_

Serena wasn't sure why she'd fallen. She wasn't sure why she couldn't get back up. She only knew that an intense throbbing in her abdomen, one pulsing its way through her body, rendered her incapable of moving any farther. Her breathing began jagged—staggering palpitations of air—hitting the forest floor and blowing the dead leaves up off the grass. She could still see the cabin. Fifty feet away, the door stayed shut beneath her heavy-laden gaze, which sunk farther and farther in to darkness as the pain continued to writhe through her body. She wanted to cry out, call his name while breath came through from her lips. Part of her knew she was dying. She wanted to kiss him one last time.

Before she succumbed to the pain, Serena felt a shadow move above her. With the last of her strength, she looked up to the sky and coming down from the canopy was a massive bird. On the pokemon, Serena spotted the blonde head of girl.

"Bonnie," Serena whispered, and lost consciousness.

 _xxxxx_

With Pikachu on his shoulders, Ash noticed the stone in his key blade turn white. It began to illuminate the room and the light spread in to the pokeball at his belt. Drawing the sword from his hilt, he activated the blade and found that it had become auric in color—no longer blue or black. He knew immediately that his Charizard had been transformed too. He was truly free from the dark; reequipped with the light. Ash Ketchum stood up and burst through the cabin. He was not going to give up.

 _xxxxx_

"You did this!" Bonnie shouted when she saw Ash run out of the cabin. He had frozen in shock at the sight of Serena, motionless on the forest floor; now in Bonnie's arms. "You did this to her!"

Kaleb moved in front of the two as if to protect them. He drew out a pokeball, holding it at his side, preparing himself for battle.

Bonnie began to cry in Serena's hair.

"Pika!" Pikachu cried, jumping off of Ash's shoulders and running to Bonnie, "Pika, pi—Pikachu!"

Bonnie looked up. Her bright gaze moved from the pokemon to Ash, and back to Pikachu. She continued to cry, but grabbed on to Kaleb's arm as if to hold him back from engaging Ash aggressively.

"Where have you been?" Bonnie whimpered, biting her lip as Ash drew forward, cautiously, "why did you leave us?"

"Bonnie," Ash's voice broke. He knelt down beside the younger girl, aware of Kaleb watching him suspiciously. Ash then looked at Serena, and the colorless cheeks on her face. "Let me take her. Let me take her to the bed."

Bonnie shook her head fiercely, clinging to Serena as she sobbed. "Where were you?!"

"Bonnie, please," Ash pleaded, holding out his arms. His eyes were beginning to grow full, and soon tears were streaking down his face as well, causing both Kaleb and Bonnie to watch him with shock.

The younger girl let go of Serena, letting Ash move in front and lift the unconscious body in to his arms. He motioned for them both to follow him, and he led them in to the cabin, through the kitchen, in to the room were he laid Serena on the bed. Her body looked cold. Her red lips, now turning blue. Ash pressed his mouth to hers, one last time.

When he pulled away, Ash wiped his face of the tears and bore a fiery determination in his bright, amber eyes. He turned to Bonnie and Kaleb, who still seemed stunned by the kiss and the look on Ash's face. The younger girl, however, had seen and known that look before. She ran up to her old friend and wrapped him in a redemptive embrace.

Ash was back.

Ash hugged her back briefly and then held her out by the shoulders. He bent down to her level and looked her straight in the eyes.

"I need you to take care of Serena," he said, his gaze pure embers, "I need to destroy Lunala if I'm going to save her."

"What if," Bonnie trailed off, following Ash out the door as he began to leave the cabin, "what if she dies?"

"She won't," Ash said, calling upon his Charizard, now pure and restored to its original coloring. As he mounted the dragon, with Pikachu on his shoulder, Ash gritted his teeth and under his breath added, "she can't."

Charizard roared. The trees bent, and the grass shimmered, under the wings that beat the air and ignited the beast in to the sky.

* * *

 _xxxxx_

* * *

 _Lumoise City, Kalos_

Diantha and Meyer led the remaining soldiers to where the survivors had been hiding within the underground tunnels. There were about forty civilians left. Behind the surprised crowd, Clemont found the machine his father was attempting to use as a satellite transmission—one powerful enough to penetrate the darkness above the city—and began looking it over. He rearranged two of the fusion wires connected to the main circuit, and reorganized the coordinates of the potential signal. He called for his father to bring the stone, so that he could help hook up the conductor patches.

"Good thing you showed up," Meyer muttered, handing his son the lightning stone, "I was sort of guessing with most of this stuff."

"Well, you had most of it right, Dad," Clemont hooked up the stone and began powering the transmission, wearing the gears begin their mechanical turning, "but, there's still no way we'll be able to send out voice messages, seeing as we have no microphone or wave strength."

"Ah, but sending out vocal communications is not the point of the machine," Meyer smiled, revealing a computer mouse attached to the transmission box. He began to click out an old code language. His clicks varied in length and speed. Meyer filled the room with a rhythmic code. Clemont imagined dots and dashes. Meyer put one a set of headphones and continued his clicking. "Let's see if anyone finds us."

"We don't have much time," Akoni said, his collected demeanor faltering. He needed to get these people out of here before he could help Drifter.

"I know," Meyer said, "five minutes."

* * *

 _xxxxx_

* * *

 _Pallet Town, Kanto_

"Would you care for some tea, Samuel?"

Professor Oak nodded. He watched Delia disappear in to the kitchen, taking a seat in the living room where the TV blared with the latest news breaking around the regions. There were images of refugee camps being set up near the ports of Kanto and Unova, people from all over the world seeking refuge from the attacks, with finally the presence of a joint police and military force helping citizens maintain somewhat of an ordered structure within the chaos. Journalists and field reporters littered the scenes, conducting interviews with many refugees and authorities to gather information. Not much was being revealed that hadn't already been discovered.

Professor Oak turned off the news, but stayed tense on the couch. He wrung his hands together and wondered, not for the first time, if this was an attack that could be stopped.

Delia returned from the kitchen with a tea tray; on it a steaming kettle, two small cups and saucers, and some rice cakes. She set everything down on the low coffee table in front of the couch where Oak sat, and then left again to return with cream and sugar.

"It's been a rather frightening few months," Delia said, turning to the TV as though it were still on, "but I'm sure you know more than I do about what's going on."

Professor Oak stared hard at the steam blowing up from the tea as Delia poured the liquid in to the cups. She handed Samuel his drink, and he took it only to stare at the reflection of his silhouette.

"I think Ash is involved,"

Oak's eyes went wide and he stared at Delia with a mix of shock and fear. For a few moments, he could only move his mouth up and down before getting a word out. "What makes you say that?"

"I may be quiet, Samuel," Delia said, taking a seat across from the professor, "but I'm not stupid. My son has a habit of getting himself involved in world-shaping situations. I knew as soon as he disappeared, that something strong had taken him. I knew it would take something strong to bring him back."

She took a sip of her tea.

Professor Oak blinked, and began spooning in cream and sugar in to his tea—anything to make it go down more easily.

"I've actually come to talk about James," Samuel said.

Delia set her tea down on the table without looking up. "Oh?"

"Did you ever consider that something strong had taken him?"

The fair woman fixed her light gaze on the professor. Her bottom lip, for a moment, began to quiver, but she wiped her mouth with a napkin and her face returned to stone.

"Yes."

Professor Oak let out a long, pent up breath. He ran his fingers through his crisp gray hair and then placed both his hands to his mouth as though he were about to pray.

"You didn't tell me?"

"I couldn't save him, Samuel," Delia began to shutter, the chinaware in her hands, clattering, "I could save him."

Professor Oak did know whom she meant, but he reached out to still her. Delia placed head tea on the table and raised a hand to her forehead, looking as though she were about to faint.

"Delia, it's alright," Oak tried to soothe her, moving to her side and helping her lay back against her chair, "there was nothing you could have done. In either case, it was not your fight—it was their choice."

Without saying another word, the auburn-haired woman moved away from the professor to go upstairs. She returned, more composed yet with eyes growing red, with a yellowing note between her pale fingers. Delia handed the note to Oak and sat back down in the chair, silent and unmoving.

Samuel looked at her softly and unfolded the note. His eyes going back and forth from Delia and the words in his hands.

 _My love,_

 _You must know that to leave has destroyed me. Part of my soul will always be with you and our boy, but I could not stay and grow to eventually hurt you. I was always going to hurt you. He is_ _ **everywhere**_ _. I cannot escape him anymore. In my sleep, I only see nightmares. In my reality, I only see my dreams. I have been promised power beyond your wildest imagination. Power to keep you safe even if I must do so from afar. You may not understand now, but the world will not always be as it is. If I do not take this chance, I will never ascertain my dreams and I will never be able to keep you safe. Forgive me._

 _James_

Before the professor could speak, his pokegear began to sound. He looked at Delia, who nodded in encouragement to answer.

"Yes?"

"Professor," Cynthia's voice came through as clear as a bell, and she sounded urgent, "we've picked up a signal from Kalos."

"What?"

"Sir," Cynthia paused to listen for more information that was being given to her by multiple voices Oak heard from the other side of the line, "sir, they say that the swarm is moving again. It's been confirmed. They'll be at the Indigo Plateau by nightfall."

* * *

 _xxxxx_

* * *

 _Lumoise City, Kalos_

Drifter knew Lunala was not fighting at full strength. This only meant one thing: the pokemon did not have full possession of Gary's soul. Yet. Not only that, but Gary was not Ash. Though Lunala's grip on Ash's soul was much less of a possession compared to Gary, the pokemon demonstrated more power through Ash, because of Ash's gifted abilities as a trainer. Drifter knew Gary had been caught up in a lie—one where Lunala most likely promised power that superseded that of the power given to Ash. Even Lunala knew that was impossible. Ash had been powerful on his own before Lunala captured his soul. This was the great irony of it all.

"We have to break Lunala's hold on Gary here, or else we'll never get him back," Drifter shouted to Brock over the beams of dark energy erupting from the tips of Lunala's wings.

"And how do we do that?" Brock asked, swinging towards a dark Aerodactyl—one of the many pokemon that had been called upon by the darkness. The fossil pokemon flew back, the gust under its wings sending Brock to his back. He rolled away before the beast could bite down on him.

Drifter continued his assault on Lunala, who only grinned.

"You can't."

 _xxxxx_

Clemont knew that look in his father's eyes. It shimmered with pure success. Through his headset, Meyer's transmission was being returned—the dots and dashes being printed on a sheet of graph paper, churning out of the makeshift machine. Clemont ripped the message out of the printer, and handed it over to his father to read.

"Well?" Diantha prompted impatiently, looking over Meyer's shoulder.

"Message received," Meyer began, his eyes deciphering the code, "forces are being sent to the plateau. Allies have been met. Get out of Kalos."

The room went quiet.

The survivors all stirred uneasily, wondering if it was either possible or safe to begin an evacuation. No one said a word until Akoni stood up.

"Ladies and gents," the Alolan began, pointing to the printed sheet of code, "That's one message, I insist we all obey,"

No one objected.

Diantha and Meyer began urging the survivors to grab their essential belonging and to leave the rest. Akoni ordered his rangers to help. Within minutes, they were all leaving the tunnels, rushing to breach the surface and escape. The tunnels rumbled as building from above continued to break upon floor, shaking dust and pieces of cement from the ceiling.

When they reached the ladder, the survivors went first, led by Diantha. The rangers came up to the surface last. When Clemont came up, Akoni grabbed him by the arm and pulled him off to the side.

"You're coming with me," said the Alolan, "we need to help Drifter."

Clemont nodded. When he told his father, Meyer insisted that he come too, and the three ran back towards the center of town.

 _xxxxx_

Brock never liked the idea of giving up. Perhaps it's something Ash taught him. Either way, he was not going to let Lunala take Gary from him too. He was not going to let this pokemon keep ruining souls that belonged to those he loved. Gary was still in there, somewhere. Brock knew that when/if Gary snapped back to his senses, he would be grieved by all the pain he was causing—he was never one to give himself grace—and Brock knew that Lunala could have chosen anyone. This could have happened to anyone. Brock could not be mad at Gary for something he himself could have fallen prey to. He knew that if he were in Gary's position, he would want someone to save him, and that's exactly what Brock intended to do.

"Hit the floor!" Drifted shouted, and the two fell to the ground just as an invisible pulse of sound erupted from Lunala's screech, the worst of it flying over their heads and shattering the remaining glass of the buildings.

Brock had covered his ears when he removed his hands, he saw blood, and felt a ringing in his head. He looked at Drifter, who was shouting something, but Brock couldn't hear a thing. Everything was moving silently, and slowly. He could see the debris flying all around him, but they fell like particles floating in the water—their movements were devastatingly slow. Brock reached up to touch one, and it spun out of place, hitting another and increasing in speed. Soon, everything came back in to its original motion. Brock lifted his sword in time to block Lunala's sword, which he stopped centimeters from his face.

In a moment of pure desperation, Brock shoved blades away and gathered every ounce of muscular strength to land a crushing kick on to Gary's chest. This only sent him back a few feet, but it was enough for Brock to run back over to Drifter, where the two stood together with soot covered faced, bloodied clothes, and their blades lifted in unison.

"I don't have time for this," Lunala smirked, but his eyes looked enraged and frustrated, "soon every soldier and pokemon under my control will be on Kanto territory, and once that region falls, I will be strong enough to devastate the world, but you know that don't you?"

Drifter panted, his blue eyes shining like vivid jewels behind the mask of dirt on his face, "You won't get that far. You were never meant to."

"Oh shut up, old man," Lunala spat, "how has your prophecy been working out for you so far? You were wrong about _everything_. Ash betrayed you. He belongs to me. And Serena will be dead within the hour. There is no chosen one. You have been lied to!"

"No!" Brock shouted, "You're wrong. Ash will save her."

Lunala looked at Brock, ripping in to huge fits of laughter.

"Brock, stop. Don't let him anger you." Drifter warned as the broad-shouldered trainer grew passionate and enraged beside him.

"Ash is the one who killed her," Lunala turned his back to them, his grin now growing wide and dark, "I had him take her, and bury his sword deep inside her heart. I wouldn't be surprised if he did it slowly."

"Stop it!" Brock couldn't hear anymore. He lurched forward, his sword high above his head, his dark eyes surging with fire.

Drifter, unable to form a coherent word at his throat, reacted with a guttural howl, his fingers just missing the sleeve of Brock's shirt. The prophet watched as Lunala, anticipating the attack, jumped backwards and flipped in mid-air and landed facing Brock's back. Lunala pulled its arm back and speared its black sword in to Brock's spine.

Brock fell to his knees.

* * *

 _I promise you every death is for a reason. I'm not one to kill random characters for dramatic effect. Every decision is deliberate. And all the "why"s will be answered._

 _R &R_


	19. Chapter 18

_I apologize for the lack of quality within the previous few chapters. I am going to go in and correct typos that I refused to look at earlier. I have been lazy with my editing and I apologize. For now on, I am going to make sure that the quality stays consistent. In that case, enjoy this chapter! Thank you to all who reviewed. Again, your encouragement means so much. Thank you._

* * *

 _ **Chapter 18**_

* * *

 _Lumoise City, Kalos_

Clemont wasn't sure what just happened. The world grew black and white and red. There was a high-pitched ringing, deafening beyond belief, consuming every sound—a scream within Clemont's ears. And there was a chill. It began with the spine and passing through, he cried out but did not hear a thing. Everything was silent. Except for the ringing. And the ringing and the ringing. Was really Brock's blood, the only color in sight?

When he saw his friend fall to the floor, Brock's knees giving out in the dirt, Clemont began to scream.

The world began to move again.

"Brock!" he gasped, his breath felt like ash, coughing up the skin of his throat, "BROCK!"

"Clemont, no!" Meyer cried while Akoni tried to grab the boy's sleeve, but not even his strong summered arms could hold back the fire before him, "Clemont, stop!"

And Clemont did not listen. He ran towards the crater of dirt and blood, and grabbed his pistol from his belt. He shot towards that creature from hell, that dark moon before him, as the tears streamed down his ashen face. He watched, though did not perceive, that the bullets did nothing to impede the beast in Gary; those wings a shield of thick darkness.

"Pathetic," Lunala whispered, and Clemont again screamed at the top of his lungs, throwing his gun in one last desperate attack.

The creature swat the weapon away, as though it were a fly. He smiled so bitterly. He thought about killing the boy, but found his pain much more satisfying.

In that decision, Lunala took off. He followed his army in to the night, and without looking back, vanished in dark light.

"Come back here!" Clemont grabbed Brock's sword and waved it wildly, "YOU COWARD, COME—,"

He didn't finish. He fell before Brock's body, facing upwards in to the sky, dropping the sword as he sobbed. Clemont crawled up to his old friend, his best friend, and cradled his head within his arms. He rested it on his lap.

"Don't you die, now— _you_ can't die— _you_ never gave up," Clemont bit out, the anger still throbbing in his blood.

"Clemont," Brock gasped, a shudder of a breath, lodged somewhere between his chest and his throat. "The…pocket…my vest."

Before the golden-haired boy could respond, Drifter ran over to the fallen trainer, bending down on one knee to examine the wound. Clemont pushed the prophet away, his grief consuming his instincts.

"Stop it," Drifter snapped, pushing back. He turned back to Brock and ripped open his shirt to see if the laceration went all the way through.

It did.

And it was turning him to stone from the inside.

Drifter fell back, his face devastated and white. Clemont read the expression and a new wave of sobs erupted from his mouth.

"You can't save him. How can you not save him? Weren't you supposed to help us?" Clemont spat at Drifter, "How could you let this happen?"

"Clemont," Brock grabbed his friend's shirt in a firm, desperate grip. With his other hand, trembling and shaking wildly, he reached in to his vest and pulled out a piece of paper. He shoved it in to Clemont's bloody clasp. "Don't let him down."

Clemont took the note and unfolded it. It was the note that sparked their quest together. It was the note from Ash's journal. It was the note written with Serena's name.

"Brock!" Drifter yelled as he watched his comrade petrify before his eyes; the dark skin now stone.

And Brock smiling, as though he would not have changed a thing for the world.

* * *

 _Safron City, Kanto_

"Yea, they say they're Lightbearers?" Misty was trying to explain to Professor Oak as he walked through the Capital Building. He and Misty entered the elevator while she continued her vain attempt at describing their new visitors, "or the Purehearted? They speak funny, and their uniforms are a bit…intense."

"And when did they arrive?" Professor Oak asked impatiently, clicking on the button for the 7th floor in a repeatedly hasty manner, "And why are they here?"

"Oh, right," Misty said, recalling the details of their strange arrival, "They arrived this morning, on a flock of Pigeots, about an hour before we received the message from Kalos, and they say they are here to 'fight the wings of darkness'."

"Wonderful."

The two reached the Officer's Beau on the 7th floor, where Cynthia had called a meeting for all generals, champions, and army leaders. They passed by Clara, the secretary, who knew now to let them in, and inside the giant meeting hall was a chaos of voices and people. Professor Oak and Misty stood at the entrance, overwhelmed by the shouts and opinions being thrown in an unorganized fashion. Cynthia was trying to calm everyone down, but even Lance has joined in on the arguing. Wallace looked bored, and Steven was thoroughly amused.

"Cynthia!" Professor Oak shouted over the crowd, and the blonde champion waved him over to her.

He pushed his way through the crowd of people and found two tall, regal looking gentlemen dressed in white uniforms decorated with gold trimmed, red sashes. One of them held an intense countenance, with dark features upon his pale skin. He looked at Oak impatiently, and nodded a curt greeting towards the professor. The other man was equally as tall, but younger and slender. His eyes were bright in comparison to his friend, and held a bit more enthusiasm, though he too seemed restless.

"Professor," Cynthia said gesturing to their visitors, "meet Generals Flynn and Solomon."

"Hello," Oak replied a bit uneasily, shifting his weight on the balls of his feet, "um, I'm sorry, where did you come from, exactly?"

"Professor Oak," Solomon began, clearing his deep voice, "as much as I would love to inform you on the details of our origin, we do not have time. Lunala is moving towards this region as we speak, and we must send our combined forces to the Plateau before dusk."

The professor looked at Cynthia and then back at Solomon.

"So it is Lunala," Oak confirmed in more of a statement, but the two generals nodded in response anyhow, "another question, then: What has happened to Brock and my nephew, Gary? Sorry, one more: what has happened to Ash?"

Flynn began to fidget. Solomon kept a determined visage, though his eyes exasperated upon the wall of this predicament.

"Ash Ketchum was taken by Lunala," the older general reported a-matter-of-factly, "Gary has been as well. Brock now fights for us."

The professor had so many questions. But he looked at the clock and it was already past noon, time was ticking by faster than he could think or process any of what he discovered. For now, all he could do was nod and assume that, at this moment, to fight Lunala was the only thing they could do to help their friends. And his grandson.

"And what about a man named Drifter? Does he exist?" the professor asked, his final question for the time being.

Flynn blinked with surprise and said, "Yes. Drifter's the emissary for the sun. He's our leader."

Professor Oak nodded calculatingly and turned to Cynthia. "We need to trust them."

"I figured," Cynthia muttered and let out a high-pitched, piercing whistle. The room went quiet and still, and even Steven looked as though he had been called to attention. Cynthia stood up in front of the panel of champions and pointed in to the direction of the Plateau. She then began to speak.

* * *

 _The Indigo Plateau_

Bonnie sat grasping the paling fingers of Serena's perspiring hand. Despite the sweat, her ivory skin felt cold. Bonnie continued to ask Delphox to heat moist towels in order to lay them on Serena's forehead, but it didn't seem to help deter the temperature. Kaleb and Pancham would come in and out of the room bringing in firewood, igniting the hearth with his Quilava. Sylveon stayed beside Serena's bed with Bonnie, helping with the rags. The room, though busy, stayed mostly silent—on the edge of a dreaded precipice—as though any sound were enough to collapse the fragility of the moment.

Farther in to the afternoon, a few hours after Ash had left, Serena stirred. She opened her weak eyes, and offered a frail smile towards Bonnie with her colorless lips. She touched the young girl's face and sigh.

"Where is he?"

Bonnie cupped Serena's hands and bit away the tears, sending them back in to their natural springs before they broke the dam of her lips. "He went to fight Lunala. He says he's going to save you. Don't worry."

Serena closed her eyes. She smiled widely now, but as one who does while surrendering a gift from their hands; full of yielding peace. The golden-haired girl lifted her head and tried to speak again, but her voice was weak and cracking.

"He came back," Serena whispered to the air, her eyes still hidden, "he came back for me."

"He did," Bonnie assured her, and gripped her sister's hand with more vigor, "and he's coming back again. I saw it. I saw his eyes, Serena. They are just as determined and passionate as when we both met him. Serena—"

Serena let out a slow, shaking breath.

"Serena," Bonnie repeated, her own strength now failing, "Serena!"

"Shhh," the pale girl cooed, her hand now wiping Bonnie's tears, "I'm still here."

* * *

 _Lumoise City_ , _Kalos_

"We have to go," Drifter was saying, his hand latched tightly on to Clemont's arm, "we have to go, _now_."

"No," the young man was shaking his head wildly, his glasses fogging before his eyes. He kept a tight grip on Brock's face.

"If we don't go now, his sacrifice will be in vain," Drifter whispered, straining to keep the urgency in his voice to a minimum. He tensed his muscles in patient waiting.

"We can't just leave him here,"

Akoni and Meyer arrived beside Drifter, the two exchanging glances above the young gym-leader's head. Meyer bent down and grabbed his son by the shirt. He knew only he had the authority to do so.

"It's time to go," Meyer said softly, a stark contrast from the way he yanked his son away from the body.

They left while Akoni stay behind with Drifter. He knelt down beside Brock's frozen body, and moved his fingertips over his fallen friend's lips and imagined himself closing them. When he removed his hand, the stony eyes were still open in place.

"Where do we go now?" Akoni asked Drifter, his dark eyes staring down at Brock. He clenched his fists angrily and looked at his leader, "Tell me we're going after him."

Drifter took a few seconds to breathe. Around them, the ash and soot still swirled with the smoke of the buildings burning in the distance. He shook his head.

"That won't be necessary, Akoni," Drift squinted up in to the flame-lit sky, embers igniting the dark clouds making them look pregnant with fire, "he's already going after us. Come, you need to beat him to the Plateau. I will go before you and warn the others."

Akoni watched Drifter start back towards their group, his boots crunching the burnt grass and debris littered on the floor. The Alolan felt his face grow pale, his mind flashing to the other young lives the came on Brock's lead. Nothing was going as he'd expected. Everything was harder, more difficult; more complicated. And now, Lunala was riding the army to the Indigo Plateau, where—

"Drifter," Akoni blurted, and his face contorted in to a grimace as the prophet turned to face him, "I told Bonnie. I—I told her where Serena was—where Ash was. She and Kaleb are…"

Drifter looked at Akoni with a gradation of incredibility. "Now is not the time to unload your heavy conscious on me, Akoni. I don't have _time_ anymore. We are all out of it. There's an army about to destroy the human race, and in this moment—right now—I am as lost as everyone else. I don't _hear_ anything anymore. I can't _see_ the outcome of this. I…I can't help you."

As Drifter whispered the final sentence, pain stretched across his face and he felt himself crumpling. He thought of the times he'd failed his friends; his soldiers, comrades, and allies. He did not know where Solgaleo was, but it felt as though his presence was lost. He wondered, for a moment, if it'd all been a dream, and about the hope that had now grown taut.

"Have faith," Akoni said, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "you know you are not alone in this. You may be his messenger, but the burden of a life is not yours. You have done your job well, and prepared us for this day. If we knew it'd be this hard, we'd never have stayed. No one would ever have come. You told us what Solgaleo told you, and that is all you needed to do. You were never destined to save Ash. Or James. We were never purposed to save anyone."

And as the world fell away, and the earth shook and trembled, the two of them turned to leave the ruins behind. They walked towards the living, the crying and fearful faces, and put on a reserve of strength that they had kept safe; a last resort in order to survive.

* * *

 _3 years ago_

James Ketchum walk through the forest; an apparition formed by the moonlight creating dapple shadows upon the forest floor. He knew these wood by heart, and ambled in the dark until he reached a break in the pines and evergreens. He did not move in to the clearing right away. He melted in to the shadows of the forest line, and watched the lights of the cabins flicker on and off within various rooms. With his arms crossed before his chest, he sank against the trunk of an aspen and waited.

It began to rain.

James moved the hood of his black cape over his head, and deftly slunk in to the night. The clouds had moved over the moon now. He used this absence of light to slither against his old home, the walls now perfumed by wet wood. He thanked the rain for its efficacy in drowning out sound, and crept up to the living room window. There he stood and waited, as the torrent howled on, watching two figures move before the firelight ignited upon the hearth.

His black eyes looked in, unwavering, even against the flames. His orbs reflected not a beam of light. He stared for about twenty minutes, shielded from the rain by a few feet of root jutting out from the ceiling of the cabin. His gaze was fixed on the boy bearing his name. He had grown tall; slender but strong under his blue jacket. The resemblance would be uncanny, were it not for the eyes. James did not have those amber eyes anymore. He did not belong to color.

The other figure beside the boy, instructing him, was Drifter.

And James filled with rage towards the man who stole his son. He knew Drifter would eventually sense his presence. It didn't take long. The prophet's eyes moved to the window and immediately spotted him.

Drifter froze.

James then vanished in to the dark again, and moved to the front door. He didn't knock.

Yet, he heard Drifter tell Ash that they were done for the day, and to go to the other room. James then felt the floorboards of the small porch recoil as Drifter man his way towards him. The door creaked open, the hinges moaning in protest. Out from the firelight, Drifter emerged, stepping forward and closing the door behind him.

The air grew dark.

The only light filtering in to the rainy night, hit their boots from the crack underneath the door. Even so, James could feel the heat of Drifter's stare, and he returned it with the coolness of his own.

"Drifter," James began, smiling to the void, "it's been a while."

"Why have you come?" Drifter shifted, and the sound of the pounding rain filled in the gaps of their silence.

James folded his arms before his chest. "I'm doing well, thank you? I see you've lost your formalities."

"Your appearance was expected," Drifter paused to analyze the moment, "but the manner of your arrival is odd, I must say. You come with no power."

"I come with every power imaginable," James snapped, and clenched his jaw to tame his temper. He continued, coolly, "I don't need to take him by force. He will come on his own, if given the choice."

"The boy stays with me, James," Drifter said with a voice of stone, his words chiseled from the very heart of a mountain, "and he will do what you could not."

"And by that, do you mean kill you? That is something I seem to be having trouble with."

Drifter stayed silent. James could sense the prophet's righteous anger building.

"I'm giving you one last chance," James didn't have time for this. He wanted to take the boy and leave Drifter's throat hanging from a sinew, "You hand the boy over, or I will take him from you."

"Come back here again, James," Drifter warned, the fire in his eyes visible in the dark, "and I will not let you live."

James scoffed. He jerked his head back towards the direction of the forest, and began walking towards the thicket.

"He's my son, Drifter," James lowered his voice; a distant thunder before the rain. "I'm trying to save his life."

"And you think his life would be kept should he join you?" Drifter growled, enraged by the twistedness of that logic.

"If he doesn't," James spun around, the silhouette of his face towards the prophet, "Lunala will kill him. _I_ will kill him. He'll make me do it."

Without a warning, James' knees began to buckle—he suddenly felt weak at the realization he'd just spoken. The truth he had been trying to deny for so long. He grabbed a wooden beam upholding the cabin roof, in order to support himself. The weight of his dilemma too much.

"Look at what you've done to yourself," Drifter said, his voice now a whisper, yet still full of ice.

"Please, Drifter, please," James began to plead, "I—I don't want him to die. You would have him killed!"

"And you would kill him!" the prophet stepped fully towards his old apprentice and grabbed James by the collar of his black cape, "Would you really kill your own son?"

"Give him to me Drifter," James said again, his hands wrapping themselves around Drifter's wrists, pushing the prophet away from him, "Lunala will save his life. He's promised…"

"He would promise you the world and give you nothing but dust," Drifter growled, throwing James off of the porch, "don't you see?!"

James rolled in to the rain, his body slapping the mud on the ground.

Thunder cracked the sky open, and gave way to an increasing heavy torrent of rain. The wind shook the wood of the cabin, rattling the windows and the the door.

James struggled back up to his feet. His face smeared by wet dirt, his black hair stuck wild across his face. "I hate you," he breathed, his shoulders heaving up and down from the furious breaths he took. "I hate you!"

"You were my best friend!" Drifter shouted back, just before a flash of light seared across the night, his voice breaking, "…my brother when I had none. Why didn't you trust me?"

James spat in to the ground and walk backwards in to the dark. He didn't respond after that. His glare said it all. Even after he was still long out of sight, Drifter could feel those black eyes watching him; even through the rain.

* * *

 _present day_ …

Cynthia had to admit. She had never imagined that she would be leading an entire army to battle against a massive swarm conjured by evil forces. However, now, it was something she could add to her resume.

She, Professor Oak, Misty, Tracy, and Steven rode in an open transport helicopter piloted by Lt. Surge and Wallace. They led the battalion of aircrafts behind them, all heading towards the Plateau. Cynthia examined the shared glances from the trainers before her as they organized their pokeballs. She moved past them, grabbing on to the netting above, and made it over to the pilots, asking for their coordinates.

"Literally, we just left," Steven remarked, overhearing Cynthia's inquiry. He gave the cabin an easy grin and folded his hands behind his head, "we can't be past Cerulean City yet."

"He's right," Lt. Surge answered gruffly, their horizon already turning dark, "We'll reach the Plateau by nightfall."

"Which part of the Plateau exactly?"

Wallace passed her a quick glance over his shoulder. "The Iron Valley, actually. If we can get there by nightfall, we'll meet the swarm head on. Hopefully, we'll be able to level them."

"We'd better, I don't want to fight this whole thing in the air," Cynthia muttered and turned to the professor, "we don't have enough pokemon that can fly."

"Any pokemon can fly," Steven interjected again with another smile, "just push them over the edge of this helicopter and poof! They're flying. How they land is up for debate."

"You're sick," Misty observed and pursued her lips.

"Why thank you,"

"Steven, this is not the time for your comic routine," Cynthia snapped, and again looked at Oak, "we're severely outnumbered,"

The professor nodded, "It will take a miracle to end it. But courage is enough to slow them down."

She glanced at the transport hovering beside theirs. Inside, Flynn and Solomon were there, speaking to another gentleman dressed as they were. It suddenly occurred to Cynthia, that she did not remember there being three.

Professor Oak followed her gaze. He then stood up abruptly and moved closer to the edge of their cabin to get a better look at the adjacent transport.

"Do you know him?" Cynthia asked, surprised by the professor's reaction.

Oak's eyes only grew wider, their vision shaking with the reflection of the rotor blade.

"Yes," he answered eventually, "His name is Drifter."

* * *

 _hope you liked this chapter. Next one will be longer, I promise. In the meantime, please review any comments or questions!_

 _PS. Drifter (just to clarify) does have the power to apparate, if you remember from earlier on in the story. He has just reframed from doing so for a while, in order to travel with companions._


	20. Chapter 19

_**Chapter 19**_

* * *

 _Five years ago_

"Gary," Ash said over the fire while his auburn-haired friend roasted a marshmallow over the flames. The two were sitting outside the professor's laboratory, on the porch that looked over the moon-lit meadow. It was well past midnight. However, the two had planned to meet for old time's sake, and decided on a bonfire. Back when they were kids, even before they were rivals, they would always sneak out of bed to watch the meadow so as to see if they could spot any rare pokemon that couldn't be seen during the day.

Now it had become a tradition whenever the two were back in town at the same time.

"What's up, Ashy boy," Gary popped a melting marshmallow in to his mouth and cringed at the unexpected intensity of the heat. Pikachu and Umbreon both snickered by the fire.

"I'm going to marry her."

Gary coughed. He slapped his chest to regulate the movements of his lungs, and glanced side-ways at his best friend.

"Ash, we're seventee."

Ash chuckled and shook his head. "Not right away. Maybe in a couple years or so; I don't know. But she's the one. I love her."

Gary made gagging sounds, and Ash started throwing marshmallows at him, which made them both laugh.

"Have you told her?"

"Told her what?"

"That you love her?" Gary smirked when he saw his friend blush.

"Not yet."

"Coward,"

"Shut up," Ash snapped and threw another log in to the fire to keep it going, "Have you ever been in love? Do you know what it's like?"

"No, enlighten me," Gary leaned back and placed his hands behind his head. He looked at the two pokemon, and they exchanged amused glances.

"It's like wearing your heart outside of your sleeve—anything she does can break it, ruin it; she has the most power to hurt me. It's terrifying."

"Sounds wonderful," Gary groaned as he sat back up to grab another marshmallow and place it on his stick.

"It is," Ash smiled, his expression now changing from fear to astonishment, "she _chose_ me, Gary. Out of everyone else; she chose to love me. It's a choice. I'm beginning to learn that it's a lot more than just a romantic feeling. It's a promise."

Gary cringed at that word _promise_. He bit in to his snack and watched Ash grinning like an idiot. It was at that moment that Gary swore to never fall in love. It made people look like idiots.

Despite the development of this newfound determination, Gary listened to Ash talk about Serena the rest of the night. His emotions varied, but his slight envy was mostly overwhelmed by the authenticity of his happiness for Ash. His best friend really never looked more exhilarated. And Gary couldn't help but smile at how ridiculous and bright Ash looked.

"When I marry her, I want you to be my best man," Ash said, that determined look on his face; the one with the fiery eyes that made anyone want to cast away all reason and join him on whatever endeavor he was about to engage.

"Me?" Gary was surprised. He knew that technically, he and Ash considered each other best friends. However, despite what Ash thought, Gary never saw their rivalry as over. He still felt a great about of competitiveness towards Ash; one that led to more envy than genuine concern. Gary knew that deep down, he wasn't a good friend. He was arrogant, conceited, and egotistical.

Yet, Ash always saw the best in people. Ash always saw the best in him.

"You're my best friend," Ash confirmed, not for the first time as he took out from his bag, a broken pokeball—the red top of the half. Gary felt a pang of guilt.

He remembered that day, way back when they were kids. He and Ash found a pokeball while they were fishing at a nearby lake, and had fought over who got to keep it. They ended up breaking the thing in half.

Gary reached in to his bag, bringing out the bottom half. He smirked, surprised as himself for still holding on to the thing. He was hardly as sentimental as Ash when it came to this kind of stuff.

"Yea, whatever. I'll be your best man," Gary said off-handedly.

The last thing he was Ash's grin, before he closed his eyes and dozed off.

* * *

 _Present day_

"I see them,"

Cynthia stood looking out of the open cabin of the transport. She had one hand fastened on to the net of the ceiling, and the other on the pokeballs at her belt. In the distance, she saw a huge cloud of gathering darkness, moving like mist over the mountains. The last auric light of day was disappearing beyond the plateau, devoured by the oncoming night the setting sun promised. This night would be different. Not only could Cynthia see it coming with visceral clarity, but this darkness did not guarantee the return of day. She knew this. And so did everyone behind her.

No one spoke. Only the hovering of the helicopters, and the occasional transmission static could be heard moving through the air thick with tension. Cynthia thought of wires strung tightly around a battery; one that had yet to be activated—dead until the flip of a switch. They were all waiting for a spark to set everything off. The silence charged the nerves.

"Transport 1, this is Transport 2, over," emerged a voice clouded by static, "we've reached the Iron Valley, how are we proceeding, over,"

Wallace grabbed the pokegear attached to the chopper's radio, pulling it over his mouth. "Just a second, Transport 2."

Cynthia watched as separate sets of gazes began to land on her.

She looked at the professor. And he kept his eyes on the second transport where the man named Drifter stood, watching them from his open cabin. Cynthia met his eyes, and something within her made her mouth the word, "help."

Within an instant, Drifter had disappeared.

Cynthia felt her body gasped, and she turned out of instinct back to the cockpit only to find Drifter now before her, standing with his back straight and tall; a true leader.

"We should land the helicopters in the plains. Bring the battle to the ground. That army will not pass over you." Drifter said, matter-of-factly.

Cynthia caught her breath, and staggered. "How do you know they won't fly over us?"

Drifter's bright eyes squinted against the final moments of the setting sun. He then looked at her and said, "Because Lunala doesn't like to leave anyone alive. And he will not pass over us until we are all dead. So we have to make sure that doesn't happen."

"Well that's wonderfully comforting, sir," Steven muttered, and shifted from the other side of the cabin, "are you sure we should give up all of our air support?"

"That cloud following Lunala's army will shut down all of your equipment," Drifter nodded towards their opponent, "these choppers will be useless once inside. This battle must be fought purely by pokemon and men. Anyone with pokemon that can fly, will provide our air support."

"Good-grief," Lt. Surge cursed, "so you're saying once we go in there, we can't come out? Unless…"

"Unless we win," Misty whispered, her eyes jumping from everyone in the cabin and landing on Professor Oak, who looked pensive, as usual.

Cynthia growled with frustration over the intensification of difficulties surrounding them. She moved to the cockpit and snatched the pokegear out of Wallace's perspiring hands. She drew the moist speaker over her lips.

"Begin descending every transport. Land them in the plains. Coordinates; 40.342, -105.6836, over,"

She slapped the pokegear back in to Wallace's palm, and nodded towards Lt. Surge to begin their descent. Though there were protests coming in from the radio, she knew every transport would follow their lead. They didn't have a choice.

* * *

 _She's dying, Ash…you know I can save her._

Ash flew wildly through the sunset; his Charizard ripping the clouds apart at the seams. The voice he heard now, was a voice he knew all too well—and its reappearance was proof that Serena was, in fact, dying.

But Ash knew better now.

"You have no power over me anymore," Ash whispered, the rushing wind pulling the words out of his breath, "I'm going to kill you."

 _You won't find me in the mountain._

Ash stopped. He pulled back hard on his Charizard, who roared out a gasp. Flames blew out of its nostrils, and melted in with the dusky light. The dragon and Pikachu both gave Ash a perplexed stare.

Ash had stopped breathing. The voice had changed.

 _Remember me, Ashy boy? That's right. I've taken your place._

"No," Ash began to mutter, gripping his hair, "Gary, listen to me. You—,"

 _Find me and we'll finish this score._

"Wait—!"

But the presence had left. Ash could feel its darkness release around his shoulders. He shuddered.

He began looking around the empty sky, wondering where he should go. He knew that if he were to kill Lunala's soul at the mountain, Gary would die with him. Lunala's soul and the soul of his best friend were now entangled. He had to deliver Gary first.

Ash growled. This was the epitome of sacrifice, he thought to himself. If he flew to save Gary now, Serena would surely die before he reached Lunala. This thought was paralyzing. He didn't know if he could do it. He didn't know if he could save Gary.

But he had been the one to imprison him. He had been the one who brought this darkness upon his friends. Ash knew none of this would be happening had he been stronger.

And now Gary…

Ash didn't know if he could save Serena. Even if he were to kill Lunala, there was a chance the poison would still take her regardless. He didn't know if the venom was tied to Lunala's powers. What he did know was that he could save Gary; something inside him assured him of that truth. And that truth was devastating.

He could not choose uncertainty over certainty; the possible death of two lives over the sure saving of one.

Ash knew what Serena would want him to do.

Ash began to weep.

* * *

Clemont rode on a Fearow behind Akoni; their group now a mix of Kalon survivors and what rangers were left. Diantha and Meyer rode beside them, their Noivern growling through the strain of the pace they kept. They knew they would not make it to the Plateau until after nightfall, and it had begun to rain. Clemont felt the drops thicken, his glasses practically cracking from the force. His eyes were set before the dark clouds. Soaked to the bone, and he didn't care. His mind focused on one thing:

Killing Gary Oak.

* * *

 _The Iron Hills, Indigo Plateau_

Cynthia was the first to jump out of the transport. She landed in a roll and jumped to her feet. She called upon Lucario and the pokemon took its position beside her as the rest of the crew landed and disembarked their helicopters. Cynthia looked down the line of the fields. To her left and right, men and women came to fight with their pokemon at their sides; men and women from all across the regions, with companions of every variety. There was not a more beautiful and terrifying sight, with the clouds darkening before them, and the sunlight fading off their faces from the west. The last of the brilliant shine touching the army with one last kiss for good luck.

"They are closing in," Wallace muttered, as they watched the swarm pour in to the valley like black water being sloshed about through the hills on the horizon.

Cynthia watched Drifter approach her, his Dragonite now at his side.

"I will take my men to the sky, and be your support in the air," he was saying, while Cynthia shivered with what she told herself was the cold, "tell your army not to use more than two pokemon at a time so that their attention is not too divided. Within the chaos, it will be hard to navigate anything. Also, the battle will be long. The pokemon will need interims of rest."

"Will our guns work?" Steven asked, pulling out a pistol from his belt to load a full clip in to its hilt.

"Yes," Drifter replied, but shifting uncomfortably, "however, the warriors of the dark army will be using blades—key blades—with their pokemon, which will be in their mega evolved state. Their blades can absorb your bullets without an issue. If they charge, you _must_ call upon your pokemon to help you. No weapon you possess here can block that blow."

Everyone went silent again. In the distance, the last of the transports shut off their rotors.

"I don't see how this can get better," Steven smiled wryly.

Cynthia wasted no time in repeating the information to her commanders, who in turn retold it to the soldiers of their rebellion.

The swarm was now in the meadow. The front line of their forces rolling in from the other side of the valley while dark clouds shut out the last of the sun.

When the light finally disappeared, it began to rain.

"They have to be only about ten miles from us now," Cynthia heard Tracy remark, and the professor grunt in response.

"Time to brace ourselves," Cynthia nodded towards her Lucario and then directed her gaze to the others, "I suppose this is the moment I give an encouraging speech."

"No need," Steven sniffed, standing upon his mega evolved Metagross, "I think the public demands more charisma. I nominate myself,"

"Let's just skip the speech altogether," Lt. Surge growled, "I don't want to hear either of you speak another."

Their small group manage to break out in to a chuckle or two, but the moment was quickly speared by a distant roar booming out of the darkness. Upon the explosion of sound, the earth began to tremor. Cynthia thought of the trembling of a lip before a flood of tears. She bent down and touched the floor with a hand to keep her balance. The roar soon turned in to as the Dark Army approached. A tall, winged figure flying over the swarm—its silhouette blacker than the night crawling out of the east.

Then everything went silent. As quiet as a mountain fog.

For a moment, everything looked frozen. Cynthia turned and watched everyone in slowed time; their fear evolving into determination. She watched droplets of rain fall on to the skin of their faces. She heard each touch of water hit the ground, breaking like shattering glass. She saw the webs of darkness stretch forth like rivers of black ink, bleeding out from mountain.

What she saw next, was the bat-winged figure standing a hundred feet away from her. She jumped back, and fear petrified her in to place. She turned to the professor.

Oak was already shaking.

 _xxxxx_

"Gary…my Gary, what have you done to my grandson?" Drifter heard Samuel gasped as the old man stumbled to one knee. He was quickly helped up by Tracy, who looked no more shocked than the professor.

Drifter's felt his own limbs tremble—not with fear—but by sheer exhaustion. He was running out of time. They were all running out of time. He had so little strength left. And he was so tired of watching others suffer. He was so tired.

"Drifter!" Lunala shouted from Gary's throat across the charged space between them. "This will be the last time I see your face,"

Drifter said nothing in return. He drew his key-blade—it's bright light gleaming against the silhouette of the black sea before him—and pointed it directly at Lunala.

"Who will make the first move?" Lunala grinned maliciously and again drew his own sword of night.

"Gary!" Again Drifter heard Samuel's desperate voice rise from the rain, "Gary!"

Professor Oak ran forward towards Lunala, but Drifter shouted to the others to hold him back. He watched Tracy and Misty struggle to keep the professor in their grasp, while the others went pale at the sight of Samuel losing his composure. Drifter turned back to Lunala and bared his teeth. He shivered as the rain began to intermingle with the sweat forming on the back of his neck.

Lunala turned around and spread his wings wide from Gary's back, calling his army to halt where they were, and they began to roar and bang their weapons on the ground. Their clamor resounding within every rock and drop of rain. Drifter watched them begin to stir with a deadly energy, waiting for the moment of their release.

"I could smell your fear from the mountains," Lunala sneered, moving back around to face Drifter, "You're pathetic. Who will make the first move?"

No one moved a muscle. The only sound from their side, were the sobs of Professor Oak. Everyone else stood as still and white as marble statues. Drifter lowered his sword.

Lunala began to laugh. He held his sword up high, shouting, "Then I guess the honor is—,"

Before he could whisper another utterance of that damned tongue, he was silenced by a roaring figure as bright as a sunrise. It flew past with a speed comparable to the lightning, soaring towards the ground only to drill upwards in to Lunala—lifting the winged beast in to the clouds where both figures disappeared.

It all happened within a second; a blink of an eye.

And Drifter stood stunned and motionless. His reactions delayed. The space Lunala had occupied only a moment ago was empty; as calm as though nothing had been there. Drifter then looked up towards the dark clouds and saw nothing. His head nodded back and forth between the earth and the heavens.

"What was—," Cynthia's voice fell at the sight of a fire—one burning and searing apart the rain with a pillar of spinning flames. Embers and steam danced in the wake of its rocketing descent, until it hit the ground with a force strong enough to break the rocks beneath their feet.

Smoke billowed from the site of the fresh crater. Everyone stared in awestruck horror. The rain grew harder.

For minutes, absolute silence retook its control of the valley. The smoke began to wash away and thin.

There, standing at the rim of the crater, was Ash Ketchum.


End file.
